


Chosen Obligations

by Mendeia



Series: Fate Is A Gift [9]
Category: Mighty Max, Mummies Alive
Genre: Action, Angst, Crossover, Gen, Gods versus Heroes, Humor, Major Destruction of a US Landmark, Male Friendship, Not Really Character Death, Questionable Egyptian Mythology, Trips To The Other Side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-20
Updated: 2006-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 00:59:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 86,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mendeia/pseuds/Mendeia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Skullmaster and Scarab get together to try to take over two worlds, the Mighty One is called to help Presley and the mummies save both worlds from an angry god of death, to teach one another about what it means to be a hero, and to save each other from their over-protective friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Culture Clash

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me when I caught a bunch of old "Mighty Max" episodes on YouTube. I realized that mixing two particular boy-heroes might be a lot of fun, and so...this happened.
> 
> I don't own any of the characters that appear in this chapter - they are owned by several different entities, none of whom truly understand the value of "Mighty Max" or "Mummies Alive!" So don't sue me for trying to do justice to two awesome cartoons!
> 
> Enjoy!

Max really never did get used to using the portals. It wasn't that the psychedelic colors were too bright, or that he wasn't really a big fan of going anywhere by falling head-first for what felt like forever and then landing on his face. True, he didn't like either of those very much. But the thing no one ever seemed to appreciate was that the stupid Cosmic Cap reacted the whole time he traveled through a portal. Now, head-first as always, Virgil to his left and Norman, shouting his war-cry, to Max's right, he could feel the Cap pulsating with the power of the passage itself. The energy that the portals were made of, not electricity but something like it, echoed through his whole being from the moment he opened one until it had closed behind him. Max had gotten accustomed to the experience, but he was never really comfortable with the sensation of so much raw power using his body as a conduit. It was an incredible feeling, though.

The end came with an abrupt bump, as usual. At least this time Norman, who had much faster reflexes than the Mighty One, managed not only to land on his feet, but to catch Max's shirt and set him upright before he landed unceremoniously on his face. The boy-turned-hero smiled at the enormous Guardian who had saved his life countless times.

"Thanks, big guy," he said, before turning back to see where they had landed. It was twilight, and he was on a hill of some kind overlooking a city. The wind was warm, and there was something vaguely familiar about the landscape.

"San Francisco, but a San Francisco unlike our own," intoned Virgil.

Max looked down at his other companion in confusion. Okay, so he hadn't really been listening to Virgil when the bird, affectionately known as a chicken although Max knew full well he preferred the term "fowl," had been telling him what the deal was this time. There was always some grave threat to the safety of the world and only the Mighty One could avert the impending disaster. Or something. Max had discovered that being the Mighty One was easier when he didn't give it too much thought and just went with the flow. His instincts, he reasoned, were a lot smarter than his brain. But this time he was confused. Maybe he should have been paying attention for once.

"Unlike our own? What do you mean?"

"It's another dimension, Mighty One," Norman said quietly behind them.

"Another dimension? You mean like the Astral Plane? Okay, Virg, what's going on here?"

"You never listen," Virgil admonished in his severe but kind voice. "We have been summoned here by a greater need than usual. You know about alternate realities, don't you, Mighty One?" At Max's blank look, Virgil sighed and continued. "Well, simply put, this is a world where a different kind of destiny has taken place, completely independent of our own. Instead of the history you know, where the Cap was formed by the gods and has been used to fight Skullmaster, in this world there is a different kind of chosen one who fights a similar evil. This one has need of us and so we have arrived."

"So you're saying that instead of what happened to us, there's a whole other world where some other kid is the Mighty One?"

"Not exactly. You are the only Cap-Bearer in the universe. But in this world is a different kind of hero, not a Mighty One, but something else altogether, with an entirely different nemesis. Unlike the Astral Plane, which is bound to our world, this one is as independent as two books next to each other on the shelf. The Astral Plane you know is the appendix of our own story, whereas this is another volume altogether. We have crossed that boundary into another dimension."

"Cool! Okay, so, why us?" Max asked. He liked the idea of going to visit another hero in another world, but the "why us" question always nagged at him. Being the Mighty One was all right, but there were times he really wished someone else had taken the job.

"The balance of good and evil in the universe is a very delicate thing. If it is too disrupted in any one dimension, it will have an effect on all other dimensions as well. Our world is quite stable, thanks to you, Mighty One, but this world is headed for a critical juncture. We have been summoned because you are a universal force for good. You are needed to help the other forces for good to stabilize this world. By preventing evil from gaining a foothold here, we are effectively thwarting evil in our own world as well. Therefore, we have come to give an extra advantage to the heroes here, and that should re-balance this dimension in our favor." Virgil crossed his arms and waited.

"So I'm, like, the extra weight that makes the scales go down, right? But why me? Why not some other hero from some other dimension?"

"Because," Virgil said patiently, "as I said, there is only one Mighty One. There is also only one Cosmic Cap. No other hero has the ability to transcend the boundaries of space and time as easily as you. I am certain there are other heroes in other dimensions who tend to set the balance of destiny towards the good side, but few if any of them could actually answer the call and enter another dimension. You are just such a hero. And while it is largely forbidden, in this case, the need was great, so the request was granted. Thankfully, you have been so successful in our world, you earned the right to transcend the dimensions. If you had not been the hero you are, we would have been forbidden from lending the aid this world so desperately needs."

Max wondered who made all these rules about the Cap and the portals and everything else. Who decided what was allowed and what wasn't, anyway? Who granted these "requests" as Virgil called it? And why didn't they schedule any fun time in the middle of all this hero stuff? He'd like to have a talk with whoever they were, maybe try and get a little more wiggle-room with what he could do and when he got vacation time. But whenever he asked Virgil about it, all Virgil would say was something vague about "the ancient ones." Max had learned that Virgil would only tell him things when he decided it was time for Max to know them, but sometimes he wondered if Virgil even knew all the answers for sure.

"Okay, so which way do we go?" Max asked, looking around. He was answered by some kind of explosion not far from them. Shrugging, he turned to face the sound, saw a rising plume of smoke further along what looked like a bike-path in the park they had landed in, and started to run towards it, Virgil and Norman just behind. "This way! Watch out you… whatever-you-are! Here comes the Mighty One!"

-==OOO==-

 

About ten minutes prior to the explosion, Presley Carnovan was thinking what a quiet month it had been. He couldn't remember his life being this normal since he had met the mummies. As he absent-mindedly tugged on the Eye of Ra, the amulet Rath had given him, he turned his bike to look over the Bay again. He had always enjoyed watching the sun set on clear evenings like this, but it had been a while since he'd had the chance to come up here. The nice thing about San Francisco was the number of parks with great views. But, as he looked over the water from the path near the ridge, he realized that the sun had actually set already and darkness was creeping in from the east. Presley had been standing there much longer than he'd thought.

"I better get home. If the guys knew I was out alone…" Presley muttered to himself, imagining the lecture he would get from Ja-Kal. But he had taken this rare opportunity to get out on his own, away from his excessively-diligent mentors, and do things his way. The mummies, his guardians from thousands of years before, were trying to rebuild the Hot-Ra after a recent encounter with Scarab. It was in bad shape, and the way Rath had been complaining, Presley was pretty sure the other three mummies were being pressed to assist with the repairs. He appreciated the security and friendship of the mummies, but he felt like they were just a little too protective of him. They almost never let him out of their sight, and often they insisted on being within an arm's reach of him, even if it meant embarrassing him in front of his friends or risking exposure to the rest of the world. It drove Presley nuts. He just wanted to live a normal life!

Turning back towards the path, he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. Presley instinctively reached into his familiar red backpack for the Boomer-Ra, which he could use in an emergency to protect himself. But another moment showed that it was Khati, his over-protective mummified cat, sneaking up behind him from the bushes. Swinging from the cat's neck was the Eye of Osiris, which allowed the mummies to see everything she could like some kind of live TV show. They used it to tag along after him when it was otherwise inconvenient for them to be as close nearby. Presley sighed and put his weapon away.

"You scared me, Khati," he admonished the once-dead feline. She meowed plaintively and ran up for a pet. Presley was never sure why she liked being pet so much, given that her fur was covered with the ancient wrappings from being mummified. He didn't think would feel very comfortable to her, but with cats, who knew? Before she reached him, however, Khati stopped, stood still, and began to hiss, eyes flashing. Presley had a very bad feeling suddenly. He had learned to trust his instincts and right then, he felt that there was definitely something wrong.

"Uh, guys," he said, touching the Eye he wore and activating its ability to speak directly to his guardians through their own amulets of power, "I think I'm in trouble here…"

"Indeed you are!" came a shout from the nearby trees. Scarab, fully transformed and accompanied by more Shabties than Presley could count, flew forward towards the boy. Presley jumped to his bike and tried to out-pedal the sorcerer, racing down the bike-path towards the city. But the ground was uneven and before he knew it, the boy-prince was on his face in the dirt, bike spiraling away down the path. Khati was suddenly beside him, grown much larger in size and growling possessively.

"Guys!" Presley shouted into his amulet, which was glowing red. No response.

"They'll never make it, young prince," said Scarab with a very self-satisfied grin. Presley started to run again, this time towards a nearby parking lot, hoping he could draw some attention or else find a place to hide. Before he could get there, however, Scarab aimed Heka, his companion snake and scepter, who spit a huge blast of fire across their path. Presley and Khati ducked, and the fire hit a parked car instead. The car exploded. The force of it knocked Scarab back for a moment. Khati threw herself over the boy to protect him.

"Get him!" he shouted to the Shabties who had finally advanced onto their position. Presley figured Scarab would avoid using fire if possible except to scare him or drive him somewhere; it wouldn't do him any good to kill the soul he wanted all over again!

Heart pounding, he grabbed his amulet in one last-ditch attempt. "Can anybody hear me? I need help out here! Please, hurry up!" His hope was fading with the last remnants of twilight and he feared that this time, like centuries ago, his guardians would be too late to protect him from Scarab. "If I'm going down, then I'm going down fighting," he thought to himself and he eased himself out from under Khati and rolled to his knees.

Then, like the pharaoh who had been reborn within him, he stood up bravely, pulled out the Boomer-Ra again, and prepared himself to fight the Shabties and their master on his own.

-==OOO==-

 

Max reached the top of the rise in the path in time to see a bunch of funny-looking stone guys gathering around a lone boy about his age, restraining him amidst his rebellious and angry shouts. There was also a gross beetle dude flying nearby and doing a lot of shouting, too. It only took a moment for Max to figure out who the good guy was, and it wasn't just because the scene below was pretty self-evident. The Mighty One felt, just as instinctively as he knew he was the Cap-Bearer, that the boy below was a chosen one as well. He wasted no time.

"Norman! Let's go! We've gotta help that kid!" he shouted, running towards the melee.

"I love it when he says that," Norman said as he drew his sword and followed Max. His long legs allowed him to out-distance the Mighty One, and with a great battle-cry he launched into the fight. His face melted into sheer, barbaric delight as he discovered that the horde facing him fell apart when hit with his sword or fist . "All right! Bring it on!" Norman roared.

Presley thought for sure the mummies had arrived. Who else could hit the Shabties with the force of a truck and keep going? But as he looked up, hanging helplessly in the arms of the Shabties, he saw not Armon, but an unknown person taller than even his largest mummy-guardian. The huge, dark-haired warrior cut a clean path through the Shabties and, swinging a huge sword, cut him loose from the Shabties that held him in one swipe. Or, rather, cut the pieces of the Shabties that held him and then demolished the rest of their bodies. Then a kid he'd never seen before burst through the warrior's wake and grabbed his now-liberated arm.

"Come on! Let's get out of here and let Norman do his thing!" Max shouted, latching onto the boy in front of him. Somehow, having seen how easily the kid had been overwhelmed by these vaguely-Egyptian guys, Max wanted to put some good distance between himself and them. Ducking a grab, he practically pulled the kid out of the crowd, relying on his famous luck to help them avoid the mass. Max had never been lucky like this until he became a hero, a gift of being the Mighty One he knew. It came in handy now and again. Norman, retreating along with the Mighty One, strategically put himself between the fleeing boys and everyone else and continued to hack at the lot of them.

"Who are you?" Presley asked the kid who seemed to know the big guy making gravel out of the Shabties. He wished he could go back for the Boomer-Ra, which had been pulled out of his hands when he was overwhelmed. But, he reasoned, going back into the crowd of Shabties to hunt around their feet for his weapon didn't seem like that good of an idea, so instead he redoubled his efforts to follow the boy. Then he almost stopped in his tracks when he saw that they were heading for some kind of bird wearing a red toga and scratching math in the dirt, standing a bit uphill from the melee.

"It's complicated. Look out!" Max shouted, seeing the bug-guy swoop down and use his staff, which appeared to be moving, to spit fire, not at them, but in front of them, as if to force them to turn back towards the recently-escaped mass. They evaded the fire, but Max knew he needed a plan and he needed it fast. They were definitely out-numbered and out-gunned, well, out-fired, as well. Luck would only take them so far, especially if the flying thing decided to aim at them for real. As the purple bug came around for a second pass, he turned to Virgil.

"Virg, do the portals work in this world?"

"Well, yes, they do, but they are not located in precisely the same locations, nor do they lead to the places we are accustomed to…" Virgil began.

"Just find me the closest one!" After ducking another fire blast from the flying bug, Max added, "Fast!"

Presley watched in fascination as the bird, consulted a scroll as old as one of Rath's, mumbling something that sounded like "vectors" and "possibilities" all the while. Scarab was getting close, and the boy-prince wasn't entirely sure how they had avoided him this long. Somehow, the sorcerer had been unable to either lay his hands on Presley or drive them along with his fire. Something must have been putting him off balance, Presley reasoned, even though he had no idea what it could be. "Must be my lucky day," he thought to himself, but he knew it couldn't last forever.

"With the strength of Ra!" echoed across the clearing. Presley broke into a smile of relief.

Max looked up in time to witness an awesome light-show where four, well, they looked like mummies, went from being old and bandaged but surprisingly mobile to being armored and glowing. One, the blue one who had wings, took off into the air and started firing flaming arrows at the flying purple bug, staring an aerial fire-fight that took the bug's attention from the boys. The other three mummies jumped into the mass with Norman and the rock-guys, of whom there were still plenty milling around. The battle was a pretty impressive sight, but the sheer numbers of the rock-guys appeared to be taking its toll on the mummies and Norman. The whole crowd was still heading towards them, and Norman was having trouble keeping them from getting by him and having a free run at the boys.

"Mighty One, there is a portal about thirty paces due, uh, that way!" Virgil said, pointing where the park dropped off on a steep incline to a ravine and the Bay below. Max looked at it and the whole scenario reminded him of something… Of course! He turned to the darker boy.

"They're after you, aren't they?" he asked quickly.

"Y-yes" Presley answered, confused.

"Come on! Let's get rid of them!" Max shouted, grabbing the boy's arm and pulling him towards the fighting. The mindlessness of the rock-guys, along with the undead appearance of the mummies had reminded him of the soulless minions that Skullmaster had used to hunt him when the Crystal of Souls was still in one piece. And now, as then, there was a perfectly-placed portal to get rid of the rock-guys before Norman was overwhelmed. Max felt the rush that usually happened when it was time to be a hero, like a light suddenly burned inside him. He couldn't explain it, but he figured that when Virgil was talking about destiny, what he really meant was this feeling of being able to take on the world, no matter the odds, and win.

"Norman, I need your sword!" Max yelled as he reached his Guardian's side. Norman, not one to question the Mighty One most of the time, handed it off and punched one of the bad guys who was getting a little too close. He could brawl with them as easily as he could fight with the sword. Norman opened his mouth to say something, but ended up under a pile of the rock-dudes. Max evaded the pile, but just barely. Then he ran in the direction of the portal, pulling a very confused kid along, trying to put some distance between them and everyone, and everything, else.

"What are you doing?" Presley asked, desperate for some kind of answers. Why he was being pulled back towards the Shabties he had so narrowly escaped, and then, after disarming the warrior and running away again was beyond Presley. Come to think of it, running away from his guardians didn't seem like the best idea either, even though there was a pile of Shabties between them. But something about this kid, with wide blue eyes shining with something Presley couldn't quite identify, woke an odd sense of understanding in him. Somehow, the boy-prince instinctively felt that this kid was on his side, was very much like himself, in fact, and that he, like the mummies, could handle anything.

"Look, just call those guys after you, okay? I know what I'm doing." Max stopped just above the cliff and looked the darker boy in the eye, the warm buzz of heroism resonating in him. He wondered if it looked crazy to just run back and forth all the time, but often it worked. The boy was hesitant, but Max gave him a look and said, "I'm helping you. I'm on your side. Just trust me."

Presley shrugged, feeling like things couldn't get any worse, and shouted, "Hey, Scarab, come and get me!" He waved his arms and made a face. The kid next to him smiled and nodded. It felt silly, but it worked. Scarab, as well as the whole batch of Shabties, turned and abandoned their fights to pursue, the stone minions running at their top speed, periodically tripping over parts of defeated Shabties. The mummies, all shouting something, hurried after. Ja-Kal, fight abandoned in the air, followed, hot on Scarab's tail.

"Now, we're going to jump, and you're going to grab onto me, okay? Don't let go," Max warned, readying Norman's sword. He could feel the portal somewhere below him although it hadn't opened yet, and he was sure the plan would work as long as this kid didn't accidentally go over with the rest of them. The boy gave him wide eyes, but prepared to jump. "One, two three!" Max shouted, jumping over the edge of the cliff with the boy at his side.

Presley jumped on three and grabbed onto the kid's legs as they fell, not really even sure why he was going along with this. To his surprise, two things happened at once. The first was that the blond boy used the enormous sword like a climber's pick, sticking it into the dirt of the cliff as they fell and holding on, keeping them suspended high above the Bay. The second thing that happened captured Presley's full attention. The kid's innocuous red cap began to glow, and with a sound like thunder, spit a stream of what looked like lightning to a spot just below them in mid-air. The point of light grew to a great spinning wheel of color and some kind of electricity and brilliance like nothing he had ever seen before. It was somehow reminiscent of the Western Gate when open, but altogether more powerful, seemingly more wild and fantastic. Presley could feel himself being drawn into it like a magnet and he redoubled his grip on the knees of the boy. Then the Shabties, in their infinite wisdom, followed the boys' leap over the cliff, but without a sword to hold them, missed the dangling pair and fell into the light and energy. The whole group of them went spiraling away into that energy. Presley wondered if it destroyed them or just put them someplace else, like the Western Gate. He breathed a sigh of relief as the last of them disappeared.

It had worked perfectly. Max smiled, the hero-glow starting to fade. Just like the soul-less minions of Skullmaster, the rock-guys followed their quarry over the cliff and fell into the portal which took them somewhere else, and Max didn't really care where. The only problem was the big purple bug. He flew over the cliff, took one look at the portal, and seemed to think better of it. He didn't swoop down for them, but rather skirted far to one side with an odd look on his face, and flew away, shouting something like, "This isn't over!" Max sighed. It was never over with bad guys, he thought. Then he yelled in surprise.

"Hey!" the kid exclaimed as Ja-Kal lifted them both in his strong arms. Presley's attention had been on his mentor, not his enemy, and so he was not surprised when Ja-Kal came right behind Scarab and lifted them from the cliff and away from the light below. The same could not be said for his companion, who was apparently caught off-guard. At least the kid held onto the long sword as he was pulled into the air. He had good reflexes, Presley noticed. Ja-Kal flew with them back up to the ground where piles of what had once been Shabties littered the area. He set Presley down, but lifted the kid by his shirt and stared into his blue eyes.

"Who are you and what magic is this? How dare you endanger the pharaoh?" the blue mummy said with a very cold voice. Max felt himself smile nervously and accidentally let Norman's sword fall.

"Come on, it wasn't like that! I saved him, that's all!" But then he saw the other three gathering around. The red one, the one like a cat, lifted a glove with very sharp claws.

"What were you doing with the prince?" she asked, menacing him with her paws.

"Mighty One!" Norman shouted, and he started to charge the mummies holding his friend. Norman hated it when anyone threatened the Cap-Bearer, and this time he had not been expecting a confrontation. He roared with fury as he closed the distance, waving a leg he had picked up from the ruble like a club.

"Norman! Cease your attack this instant! And you! Unhand the Cap-Bearer! We are your rescuers!" shouted Virgil. Somehow, in spite of all the times that Norman and the Mighty One ignored Virgil, every now again the ancient fowl could make himself be heard and obeyed. This was one of those times. Norman stopped his charge abruptly and the blue mummy even let Max fall to the ground in surprise at being addressed by a bird in a bathrobe. Max quickly righted himself, grabbed Norman's sword, and ran back to his friends before he turned to face them again. He stood proudly, but he was just as glad having Norman so close behind and re-armed with his long-sword. His Guardian put a large hand protectively on his shoulder.

"I believe there has been a misunderstanding," Virgil intoned, stepping forward.

"I agree," said Rath, placing a hand on Presley's shoulder in a similar gesture. "It appears you actually helped defend our young prince before we could arrive," he glared quickly back at Armon and Ja-Kal and Presley wondered what had happened this time, "for which we are thankful." Presley stepped away from the others, seeing the smoldering look on Ja-Kal's face. The boy knew his guardian didn't like it that they had almost been too late, and he had a sneaking suspicion that his temper was likely to take it out on the strangers. He drew nearer the falcon-avatar and put a hand on his arm. "I'm okay. He saved me," he said quietly. Some of the flint melted from Ja-Kal's eyes, but he still shifted his weight to be slightly in front of his prince and he did not extinguish the flaming arrow in his hands.

"Who are you?" asked Armon, staring at the huge warrior standing next to the bird and the kid. They had all seen him in action. It wasn't often they encountered someone taller and possibly equal to Armon in a fight. This man was such a warrior.

"Ahem. Allow me," Virgil said, placing a hand on Max's arm before the boy's usual banter spoiled what could be a very dignified moment in history. "I hereby present the Bearer of the last Cosmic Cap, destined hero of mankind, and champion of the forces of good, the Mighty One." If he noticed Max squirming, he chose to ignore it. "This," gesturing to Norman, "is the fate-appointed Guardian to the Mighty One, Norman. It is his job to protect the Mighty One from any and all threats." Norman made no move. "And I," bowing, "am Virgil, last of the ancient Lemurians and instructor to the Mighty One. We have come to help you."

"Virgil," Max sighed, turning to his friend, "I'm sure you could have made that more embarrassing. I'm just not sure how."

"And this," Ja-Kal said, drawing Presley forward with a hand on his shoulder, "is the Pharaoh of ancient and timeless Egypt, prince and heir to the Upper and Lower kingdoms, the reincarnation of Prince Rapses." Presley squirmed too. "I am Ja-Kal, and these are Rath, Nefertina, and Armon. Together, we too are guardians to our prince. Our lives and our deaths are solely dedicated to his well-being and protection."

"Uh, thanks Ja-Kal" Presley said. He stepped forward, towards the Mighty One, hand outstretched. He could see Norman glaring at the mummies, but the Cap-Bearer moved to meet him in the middle, blue eyes smiling warily. They both felt like they had a feud on their hands and wanted it to end, fast.

"Be careful, Mighty One," Norman warned, sword out.

"Beware, my prince," Rath said, also drawing his sword.

Max looked at Presley and Presley looked back at Max. Then they both burst out laughing and their own apprehension was washed away.

"What's so funny?" asked Armon. Nefertina shook her head and shrugged.

Max recovered first. "Do they ever call you by your real name?"

"No, not really. How about you?" Presley asked, still laughing.

"Nope. I'm Max," he said, holding out a hand.

"Presley." They clasped hands.

"I see nothing humorous in your title, Mighty One! It is a mark of distinction and honor," Virgil began at the same time as Nefertina said defensively, "We do so call you by your name, my prince. Just not often." The boys looked at their respective peanut galleries, rolled their eyes, and laughed even harder.

"Well, I suppose no harm has been done. Let them laugh," Ja-Kal said in his gentle voice. The flint was gone from his eyes, replaced by the softer look of a mentor with his student. He returned his bow to its resting place on his back. It was rare the prince looked so relaxed. The falcon was glad his young ward had made a friend.


	2. Settling In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Mighty Max, Norman, Virgil, Presley, the mummies, the bad guys, the "Area 51" video games, or anything else that pops up in this story and is already copyrighted by someone else. I do, however, own my plotline and the subsequent events that take place. Also, I apologize to anyone who is deeply and personally offended by the (mis)use of Egyptian mythology and religion. I am taking a couple of characters from their places and using them for my own devious means… Well, anyway, I am borrowing the gods, so if you're a student of Egyptology, please forgive the liberties I'm taking here.
> 
> Now, onto a few chapters of adventure, fun, and crazy one-liners!

"Now, let's see what you've got!" shouted Norman as he charged Armon at full speed.

After the battle on the hill, Virgil, Norman, and the Mighty One had tried to explain why they had arrived and how they had come from a different dimension. None of the mummies had any idea what great threat was now on the horizon because nothing out of the ordinary had happened in weeks. However, they invited the Mighty One and his friends back to their lair to wait and see if some danger really would reveal itself. Virgil had located a portal that would take them all back to a point very close to their Sphinx after a quick stop in South America. However, the mummies were unwilling to allow their much-protected prince to risk such a dangerous form of magical travel at first, leading to a long and exhausting argument.

After countless assurances from Max and Virgil, with periodic agreeing noises from Norman, the mummies relented and cautiously agreed to trust this foreign magic. When they passed through the portal, however, everyone was surprised that traveling through the conduits of power actually reenergized the mummies completely. Normally, the golden guardians had to sleep for hours in their sarcophaguses to build back the energy of transforming and battling; instead only a few seconds inside a portal had returned all four mummies to full strength. It was a phenomena Virgil and Rath both immediately declared deserved intense study. A sudden kinship was born between the scholars, which kept them occupied while the others planned a wrestling match. Armon, testing out his newly-refueled energy, had bashed a tree with his golden arm and that got the boys, and Norman, to wondering who would win in a fight.

Now, fighting hand to hand, it was a master of Egyptsu against Norman's own technique. Armon's golden limb flashed against Norman's irregular armor; the Guardian had asked that Armon wrestle completely transformed to make it a fair challenge. Grunts, yells, impossible holds and near-escapes flashed as the two titans battled. The duel was intense. Armon's Egyptsu was spectacular to watch, but Norman's more unorthodox approach, which basically consisted of improvisation when brute force failed, seemed to be evenly matched against it. They were both ingenious fighters, quick and able to change their patterns of attack even in mid-stride.

Max and Presley cheered for both contestants, a fast friendship between them after such a short time, while Rath and Virgil discussed something entirely incomprehensible to the others about the mechanics of magic and metaphysics. Nefertina shouted right along with the boys; she was more taunting Armon than supporting him, although even she had to admit she'd not seen him at his best like this often. Ja-Kal said nothing, but he was quietly gauging the contestants and the boys they each protected.

Armon and Norman battled on, their ringing cries echoing in the arena. It took what seemed like forever before they finally called it a tie. No matter how many times one could pin the other, it never lasted long. The ram, panting heavily, reached out to Norman with a smile in his eyes.

"You are a true warrior, Norman. I am honored to contend with you," he said in his deep voice. Norman grasped the gold hand in his own.

"I, too, am honored to duel with you. You are a master." Norman was always at his most verbose right after a good fight.

"Way to go, big guy!" shouted Max, bounding from the stone steps around the arena and running up to them both, Presley at his side. "And you, too, Armon. That was awesome! But can you show me how to…?" the Mighty One trailed off, trying to imitate Armon's Egyptsu movements and getting his arms twisted in the odd gestures. The large mummy smiled and waved a golden hand at Presley.

"Why don't you show him, my prince? You've been practicing quite a lot."

"Really? I'm ready? All right!" Presley yelled, then ran off with Max to the other side of the training arena to run his new friend through the beginning Egyptsu exercises he knew so well. Norman and Armon watched critically from a comfortable distance, commenting on their technique, the effectiveness of various holds and grabs against different counters, and the overall skills and strengths of each of their boys.

"They're very much alike, aren't they?" remarked Nefertina, meaning Max and Presley, not Norman and Armon.

"Very," Virgil said seriously, grateful the boys were out of earshot. "Even their histories are similar. Both boys, not yet ready for adulthood, coming into their own in the midst of wonderful and terrible circumstances outside their own control. They see every situation with hope for the best, they honor friendship above all, and they are courageous beyond their years."

"Wise, too," Rath added. "It isn't just knowing the world and how to approach it, although I wager they both possess that gift. But their wisdom is in knowing how things must be, how dignity and honor and mercy are greater than power."

"And yet they are still young," Ja-Kal added, looking at the boys intensely. "They make foolish mistakes because their hearts guide them in place of reason. They are too young for the responsibility of the world. They don't even understand it. They just want to be 'normal,' not seeing how unusual they are, and how extraordinary. They take risks because they care far too much, place too much stock in the wisdom of their hearts," he sighed, "and yet it is their hearts that I prize above all."

"They're so young and they should be free to choose, and yet they are bound by a duty they cannot ignore. We ask so much of them," Nefertina sighed as well, knowing all too well what duty could do to one's heart when they conflicted.

"We have stolen their childhood and replaced it with greater dangers than most people will ever face," Ja-Kal said sadly. "If I could take it away, let them live as just boys once more…"

"They would not allow it," Virgil said firmly. The others turned to look at him in surprise. The truth was that the mummies were rather used to feeling sorry for their prince and the weight on his shoulders. Virgil pinned them with his golden eyes, a knowingness in his expression. He spoke quietly, but with an authority they could not ignore.

"Both the Mighty One and your prince are gifted as heroes. In that gift, both their destinies were determined long ago. Both of them are bound to their worlds and the well-being of all peoples under their care. They save the world because they must, and they will do so for as long as they live. Not only because we force them to," he said, looking directly at Ja-Kal, "but because they cannot help it. It is a part of them, just as the pharaoh's soul, just as the gifts of the Mighty One. They were not given a choice in the matter, no. But were we to give it to them now, I believe they would both choose the path of a hero. Not because it is easy or glorious. They both know better. They would choose it because they cannot do otherwise. It is who they are and who they will become in time."

Presley and Max left off the Egyptsu and rejoined the others, Armon and Norman in tow. The three mummies were all staring at Virgil with looks ranging from curious consideration to astounded confusion, but they quickly hid their reactions to his provoking words.

"It's really late. I have to get going. I don't want mom to notice I'm not there. Again," Presley said disappointedly.

"Doesn't your mom know about all this?" Max asked. Presley looked up in surprise.

"Of course not! The mummies can't reveal themselves to the outside world! People would freak out! Besides," he said abashedly, "I don't think she'd really believe it. Who wants to try to tell their mom that they are some kind of chosen one who saves the world from ancient evil every weekend with a bunch of crazy ancient guardians?"

"I think you'd be surprised," Max said smiling ironically.

"The mother of the Mighty One is a fine cook," Norman put in.

"You mean she knows about you?" Nefertina asked, incredulous.

"Of course," Virgil answered calmly. "It made our, ahem, outings with the Mighty One much easier once we explained everything to her. She was a touch taken-aback, I admit, but I was able to convince her of the world's great need for her son, and she soon came to accept his place and his destiny."

"She went through the roof at first," Max added, "but then she was cool with it once she saw how safe I am with Norman. I guess she figures I might learn something from Virgil while we're portal-hopping. It's great, because it means Mom'll get me out of school if Virgil needs me, and I don't even get detention! But she's also been with me on a couple of adventures, and I gotta tell you, it is no fun having your mom fussing over you when you're trying to do your thing." He grimaced good-naturedly.

"Well, be that as it may," Ja-Kal interrupted, "the prince's mother is not so informed as to the nature of her son's place in the world, and we are not yet ready to speak to her on the matter. The wary warrior does not approach a lioness with a cub unless he comes bearing meat. Come, my prince. I will take you home myself."

"What?" Max asked, shaking his head at the falcon-avatar's odd phrase.

"He does it all the time. We don't understand his proverbs, either," Armon shrugged.

"What about you? What will you do?" Presley asked Max, hesitating under the guiding hand of his guardian.

"Ah, Normie and Virgil and I will be fine here. We've had worse! Go home. While you're in school tomorrow, I'll be out at the nearest arcade! I hear the newest 'Area 51' game is awesome. I'll kill some aliens for you!" Max called after him laughingly.

"Lucky," Presley muttered as Ja-Kal led him away.

"Virgil, if you would be so inclined, I have many questions I would appreciate your aid in researching to find some answers. We must establish what new threat led you to us, as well as why your portals reenergized us so efficiently…" Rath began, wandering towards his table of scrolls with the Lemurian fowl at his side. Within minutes, the two of them were deep in ancient texts, making very little sense to anyone else.

-==OOO==-

 

"So, you're saying you have no idea why you were summoned here?" Rath asked, weariness in his tone.

"I suppose not. I had assumed upon arrival that you would be aware of the threat we have come to avert. The fact that nothing has happened means we must have arrived before the threat has come into play. Which could mean many things…" Virgil said, idly scratching on a scroll before him.

"Could it be that your arrival will actually cause something catastrophic?" Rath asked, juggling possibilities in his head.

"I think it rather unlikely. The combined destinies of the Mighty One and the prince are solely a power for good, not evil. I find it hard to believe that they could bring harm with them."

They both fell silent. It had been hours since dawn when everyone but Max had risen for the work of the day, and the two scholars had spent that time busily contemplating possibilities and destinies and magic. They had established that the portals opened by the Mighty One were serendipitously on the same frequency as the healing of the mummies' sarcophaguses, which explained how traveling through portals could be restorative. They had also established that the Western Gate was essentially a portal to the mummies' universe's version of the Astral Plane, and that it behaved in a very similar way. But settling into the question of exactly why the Mighty One had been summoned to this world had taken hours of study and revealed few answers.

"Unless…" Virgil began, thinking quickly. "There is one possible explanation. It could be that bringing together these two forces does act as a stimulus to whatever events are to take place, but that without that initial set of circumstances, the result would be far more dire still."

"You're saying that while bringing the Mighty One and the prince together may actually be the cause of whatever is going to happen, had they not been the catalyst, something worse would happen which the sole power of the prince would not be enough to overcome." Rath's eyes were wide, and the normally aloof sorcerer considered that possibility with relish.

"Precisely."

"I believe you may have something there. It is conceivable that the momentum of the goodness already in place will mollify whatever would have taken place and turn it instead into something without our sphere of control."

"What?" Nefertina asked, coming around the corner. She was a smart girl, but sometimes following Rath's logic took some doing. Norman, who had been sharpening his sword across the room, looked up.

"They're saying that whatever's coming is coming because the Mighty One is here with Presley, but if he wasn't, then something else would happen and it would be too evil for you to beat without our help."

"Well, yes," Rath said, staring at the usually non-communicative warrior.

"Norman has, over the years, become rather adept at translating my sometimes-ambiguous speech," Virgil said smiling smugly. Norman grunted in response.

"I wonder if I could teach Armon that…" Rath speculated. Nefertina snorted.

At that moment, Armon wandered in with a Beefy Burger in each hand and one in his mouth, munching happily.

"Was…goon….un?" he asked around an enormous mouthful. Seeing confused looks all around him, he reluctantly swallowed and repeated, "What's going on?"

"Hmm, perhaps not," said Rath.

-==OOO==-

 

Elsewhere, another seemingly dead and decrepit man leaned impatiently on the arm of his throne, overlooking his lair of fire and stone. Scarab drummed his ancient fingers on the arm of the chair, waiting for Heka to return. He had sent his snake off to bring him a book, and also to ensure that Ammut, the incredibly stupid dog-being from beyond the Western Gate, was not eating the ritual foods set aside for his incantations. Again. The book he required was one he little-used, a reference that contained many known but unusual types of magic and sorcery. Scarab needed to know what that light had been in the sky that had simultaneously destroyed his Shabties and given the accursed mummies another victory. Hearing thumping and an echo of Heka yelling at Ammut, the ancient vizier sighed and rose from his place.

"I should send that idiotic mutt back through the Western Gate and be done with it," he growled.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," came a sudden and gratingly dark voice from nowhere. Scarab turned to locate the sound of the voice. To his astonishment, a little-used crystal in the corner was glowing brightly. Scarab lifted it from the pile where it had sat unnoticed for years.

Looking back at him from the solid face of the crystal was a being that Scarab had never seen before, yet instinctively knew was much like himself. The face was death-white, and what skin there was stretched across solid bone; in fact, it looked more like a skull with the ability to form facial expressions than anything else. The teeth were wicked and the dark eyes were cold. Scarab, staring, felt a strange sort of kinship with the being.

"Who are you?" he demanded, not intending to take such intrusion or such unasked-for advice lightly.

"I am Skullmaster."

"Charmed, I'm sure," Scarab muttered. "And what is it you want?"

"You and I have something in common. We both have a hated enemy who happens to be a pathetic little boy."

"You know of the pharaoh?" Scarab asked, his attention now fully on the face in the crystal.

"Yes, I do. And of his little guardians. I have a similar, shall we say, impediment, in the form of another boy and his guardians, a so-called 'Cap-Bearer,' who is currently in your world. He is joining forces with your pharaoh." There was a distinct snarl in Skullmaster's voice when he spoke of the Cap-Bearer, and his teeth gleamed wickedly.

"And you're telling me this because…?" Scarab asked, interested but unwilling to commit himself. Thousands of years in the dark had made him a skeptic of any sort of help when it was freely offered. Especially from a being who was likely from another dimension. Who knew what such a being's real motivations were?

"Because there is a way that you and I can also ally ourselves and destroy them all forever!" Skullmaster roared. The maniacal glee in his voice was unmistakable.

"I'm listening."

"What do you know about the 'Ritual of Babi'…?"


	3. Par for the Course

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own "Mighty Max," "Mummies Alive!," "Star Wars," or anything else that pops up in this story and is already copyrighted by someone else. I do, however, own my plotline and the subsequent events that take place.
> 
> Enjoy!

Although he should have expected it, Presley still found his mouth hanging open when confronted with Max, Norman, and Virgil waiting for him after school. Max grinned impudently as the boy-prince rushed over to them.

"How was class?" he asked smugly.

"What are you doing here?" Presley said, somewhere between concerned and shocked. Normally he kept his mummies out of sight, knowing the appearance of four undead people would attract unwanted attention from the whole city. But here, amidst the swell of students now free from the end of Friday's learning, no one batted an eye at the largest normal person anyone had ever seen, fully armed and armored of course, and a pint-sized but all-too-anthropomorphic chicken.

"Picking you up from school. The others said we could take you out to the arcade, if your mom says its okay," Max answered, shrugging.

"No, I mean, you're out in the open! People are looking at Norman and Virgil! Aren't they...well...sort of a secret?"

"Why should we be?" Norman asked gruffly.

"Presley," Virgil said, understanding the difficulty, "you must understand that Norman and I have two advantages over your friends. The first is that we act openly, and we neither concern ourselves nor fear the world's opinion or knowledge of us. It neither endangers nor impairs us to be known by the people. We walk openly, and because we do so unashamedly, we draw far less attention than if we appeared apprehensive about being noticed. But secondly, and far more importantly, fate plays a hand in our case. You see, neither of us are, or really ever were, 'normal' people. I have always been Lemurian, and Norman has been outside the normal rules of the universe for over ten-thousand years."

"So?"

"Therefore, along with immortality, we have been gifted with what I believe you would call a 'glamour.' When people look at us, casually or in passing, we appear to be far more mundane than we really are: I apparently look like a slightly-withered older, but very dignified man, and Norman looks essentially like himself, large and strong, but not absurdly so. Not that you are absurd, Norman," for the Guardian was scowling, "but you are unnaturally sized, and the glamour hides that."

"But you don't look like…an old man or whatever," Presley pointed out.

"Well, no, not to you. Those who are born to see, such as yourself and the Mighty One, will always see us for what we really are. And you should know that those who really attempt to examine us will also penetrate the guise to our realities. But generally, those who look at the unexpected will see what they would rather see, not what is truly there. Such is the way of people." Virgil folded his arms into the sleeves of his robe, watching the young prince consider what he had learned. Norman and Max exchanged knowing grins.

"Wow," Presley finally said, piecing things together in his mind. "Can you teach Rath how to do that?" It would be so much easier if the mummies could walk openly, rather than follow him around all the time from the shadows or in really silly clothing and costumes.

"Unfortunately, I cannot. Even undead as they are, they are still bound by mortality, and as such, cannot cheat the universe as Norman and I." Virgil shook his head, and Presley sighed. The mummies would have to keep up their annoying following habits.

"Come on," Max changed the subject, "let's go see if we can get permission from your mom to hang out, okay? I've been around the city some, but you know this town and all the good spots around here." He gestured widely, encompassing the whole area. "For as long as I don't have to be in school, I want to enjoy it!"

"All right," Presley answered cautiously, "but my mom's a little bit of a stickler when it comes to my friends..."

-==OOO==-

 

"Well, of course you can go out and play with Max, Presley!" Mrs. Carnovan said brightly. Presley was shocked, but looking back, it made sense. Almost immediately upon walking into the house, Max and Virgil had both turned up their respective charms. Max's bright energy, his friendliness and sense of humor, opened his mother like a book, leaving her disarmed and enchanted by this polite, vibrant boy. Then, Virgil, speaking deliberately and choosing his subjects carefully, began a discussion about the historical artifacts around the house. From one breath to the next, Presley's mother was swapping translations and interpretations, her historical flair melding nicely with Virgil's knowledge. By the time the boys broke in to ask if they could go to the arcade, once Virgil had assured her he would be escorting them, she was only too happy to leave her son in the company of this "lovely, intelligent gentleman."

"So that's how you got your mom to like them!" Presley said appreciatively as they walked away from the house, a scant ten minutes later than they had entered.

"Yup. Except with mom, it isn't fake. She and Virgil will talk for hours if we let them. Once or twice, Normie has had to carry Virg out so we could get going and actually save the world," Max lamented.

"I beg your pardon, Mighty One, but there was nothing 'fake' about my exchange back there. Amanda is really a very bright and well-versed lady, and it is a pleasure to discuss history and archeology so intelligently. I rarely get the opportunity to do so, you realize..." Virgil said, giving Max and Norman a vaguely contemptuous look.

"Oh, all right, Virg, we know you like history. But save it for our moms!"

Several happy hours later, Max and Presley were practically brothers, forged in the united common defense against aliens, fighter jets, and various other antagonists from every video game they could afford in the arcade. Virgil, having finally broken his mild addiction to the games, drolly watched the boys play, while Norman managed to break at least two machines by pushing on the buttons or controllers too hard with his massive thumbs. He looked sheepishly at the enraged arcade owner, who promptly ejected the Viking from the premises. Laughing, Max and Presley followed, Virgil tsk-ing behind them, as it was nearly sundown and just about the time Presley should have been home for dinner.

"It's nothing new, you know," Presley shrugged. "I'm always late. Usually out with the others saving the city. Mom's kinda used to it by now. Not that she knows what I'm really up to. She just thinks I lose track of time a lot."

"And so you do," came a voice from behind them. Everyone's battle reflexes snapped at the closeness of an unknown quantity; Max and Presley both whirled around, poised to attack, defend, or flee, depending on the circumstances, Virgil discreetly placed himself in front of the boys, and Norman spun around rapidly, put all of them at his back, and drew his sword despite the crowded sidewalk. Before actually striking a blow, Norman was able to recognize Ja-Kal, mildly disguised by a pair of jeans, a blue sweater, and a hat. Adrenaline ebbed, and Norman lowered his weapon and the fire went out of his eyes, though he remained alert and twitchy.

"What are you doing here?" Max asked.

"Escorting the prince home," he answered nonchalantly. Presley looked unsurprised.

"Are the others with you?" Virgil inquired, having quickly recovered from the surprise. No one else had noticed how the ancient fowl had unconsciously put Max and Presley behind him, to protect them from danger if it was needed. Smiling to himself, Virgil felt irrationally proud; his instinct to look after his charges had won out over the basic and inborn drive to survive. While not a warrior, he knew in the depth of his heart that he, like Norman , would do anything to protect Max.

"Yes, just in the alley in the Hot-Ra. Would you like a ride?" Ja-Kal answered, gesturing.

"Yeah, let's go!" Max shouted, having seen but not ridden in the mummies' vehicle. As the motley group made their way through a dark space behind the building to where the golden car gleamed, however, Norman stopped and brandished his sword once more.

"Do you hear something?" the Viking asked with a suspicious edge to his voice.

"No..." began Rath, stepping out of the car, but he was quickly interrupted.

"I do. Get down!" shouted Ja-Kal, pulling Max and Presley to the ground. At the same instant, part of a nearby wall blew out.

"Scarab," growled Norman , rushing to where the mummies' leader crouched over the boys. Shaking dust and debris off his back, Ja-Kal stood up and pushed Presley and Max to the side.

"With the strength of Ra!" he bellowed in unison with his team, who had vacated the Hot-Ra at the explosion.

"Do you ever get tired of watching that?" Max asked as the four mummies transformed. Norman stood at the ready beside them, trying not to become transfixed by the impressive, dancing power.

"Not really. It's way better than the effects in 'Star Wars!'" Presley grinned.

Suddenly, through the hole that had once been a wall, a slew of Shabties emerged, expressionless and menacing.

"I love disposable bad guys," Norman said savagely.

"Perhaps now is not the best moment to discuss this," Virgil hazarded, gesturing to them and maneuvering around a fallen block of wall. "I believe we are going to need more open space for this confrontation..."

"Yeah, before the rest of the walls come down," Armon pointed out. As the words left his significant mouth, another embankment collapsed as well from across the alleyway, and the ram-avatar had to turn and lunge to catch the slab and prevent the vehicle from being smashed. A third wall began to crumble outward at the same time, as though put under pressure from within, right next to the boys.

"Mighty One!" Norman shouted, diving. His strong arms curled protectively around Max and Virgil, leaping with ease from the crumbling edifice to a safe distance. Ja-Kal did the same with Presley. The two warriors were only just in time; had they stood even a moment longer, their charges would have been buried beneath the rubble that now sent choking dust spiraling into the air.

"I am inclined to think that Virgil is correct," Rath said, emerging with Nefertina from the direction of the Hot-Ra, his snake's hood barely glinting through the dust that covered him.

"Agreed," Ja-Kal said. "We can relocate to a parking lot or something. It will give us a better chance; we can't afford to be overwhelmed," he said, glancing quickly around at the significant numbers of Shabties that were slowly closing in on the little group from various entry-points. The alleyway now resembled a war-zone more than an average part of the urban landscape, and the fighting had not even yet begun.

"Virg, got a portal or two we could use?" Max asked.

"Nothing in the immediate vicinity, Mighty One."

"Then we improvise. Why don't you guys take Presley in the car and lead the way? We'll meet you there," Max said, smiling widely.

"But what about you?" Ja-Kal asked.

"You could come with us," Presley objected. Virgil and Norman both began to nod, but Max cut them off.

"We can't all fit in your ride, even if Ja-Kal flies. I'll stay with Normie and Virgil, okay? We'll be fine. Trust me!"

Before anyone else could speak, the Shabties rushed the little group, causing them to scatter. The mummies hustled a protesting Presley into the Hot-Ra and closed the shield that Armon had preserved under the falling rock. Ja-Kal alone remained outside, taking to the air. Partly, he intended to be an escort for the others, but he also wished to ensure that his newfound friends remained well out of the hands of his enemies. As the Hot-Ra began to slowly cut a path over piles of what used to be walls, not to mention the stone-men who tried to get in the way, Max drew closer still to his companions.

"That was very foolish, Mighty One," Norman remarked, but there was a knowing smile in his eyes.

"Indeed. You could be safe with the others, but instead you risk yourself in unnecessary peril," Virgil admonished.

"Come on, guys. I wasn't going to leave you like that! Besides, they aren't as bad as the soulless Atlanteans, are they? We can take 'em!" Max said.

Truth be told, the boy-hero was tired of being coddled. Some of the mummies' over-protectiveness regarding Presley seemed to be contagious, and he wanted to cure his own friends of it as quickly as possible. Imagine not being able to have a little fun! So, reckless as his decision had been, it made Max feel better, and without his knowing it, it reminded both Norman and Virgil that whatever he might be, their Mighty One was brave, and carried a spirit strong enough to hold his own.

The Shabties finally broke over the last of the debris separating them from the remaining heroes and quickly launched an attack. Norman , of course, was more than a match for a significant number of them, and he swung into battle with a mighty cry. Virgil hung back, somewhat sheltered by an outcropping of rock, doing some quick calculations. After a few moments, he deftly evaded two Shabties and pulled, with no little effort, a small rock from the middle of a towering pile.

"Three...two...one..." Virgil counted to himself, scrambling out of the way. At the precise instant he had anticipated, the pile collapsed, rolling forward and crushing many of the encroaching enemies. He sighed, quite satisfied with the outcome of his predictions, and began to repeat the process with another, even larger mountain of rock.

Max, on the other hand, was doing his level best to enjoy himself in the fight. Taunting the Shabties was particularly amusing, as their expressionless faces remained unchanged, but they would pause so awkwardly if he confused them. The comment "your mother wears papyrus underwear" really threw them off to the point that three stood still so long Norman chopped them in half before they knew he was there. But, besides providing a fine distraction, Max also fought back alongside his friends. Finding what had once been a steel rod in the remains of a wall gave him a hard, sharp staff that he could use to block or spear anything that got too close. He also had a unique gift for crashing the Shabties into each other by his remarkable agility and luck. So, while the Mighty One was not the force of nature that Norman , or Virgil's calamities, could be, his work was respectable nonetheless. However, the fight could not go on forever; the Hot-Ra had finally worked its way through the mess and was on the street.

"How will we follow them?" Virgil asked. Max looked up and grinned.

"Follow the flying monkey...er...mummy!" he shouted. Then smiling, "I always wanted to say that."

With Norman defending the rear and Max leading the way, the three heroes from another world easily evaded the Shabties who continued to crowd into the small and now very messy alleyway. With Ja-Kal airborne and clearly visible in the early twilight, they easily followed, running after the absurdly golden car to find either safety or a better place to fight.

-==OOO==-

 

"You...know...I'm...not...really...in...shape...enough...for...this..." Virgil panted, after running past several city blocks with no end in sight.

"I...know...what...you...mean," Max replied gasping himself. He was really more of a sprinter than a distance runner. Only Norman seemed unaffected. Grunting and without even breaking stride, the warrior swung his young ward onto his back, piggy-back style, then tucked the Lemurian scholar under his arm.

"Wimps," Max heard him mutter as he clung to the armored shoulders. Max would have made a snarky comment in return, but he realized that Norman was actually running faster now, even toting the additional weight, and was not yet winded. He smirked. At least the big guy could boast honestly.

"That way," Virgil pointed after regaining his breath. They could see the car, moving relatively slowly for Nefertina's driving, turn right into an parking lot normally reserved for the football stadium that was not in use in the off-season. Overhead, Ja-Kal swooped low enough to speak to them.

"They are still behind, but it will be a scant fewminutes before they catch up. We could try and flee, but we run the risk of leading them back to our home. We must fight." He dropped to the ground and folded his wings as the stragglers finally rejoined the rest of the mummies and Presley.

"I eat Shabties for breakfast," Norman replied.

"They do not taste good," Armon pointed out. "You would do better with a Beefy Burger from the white stone sarcophagus." Norman stared at him, dumbfounded.

"We need a plan, a strategy, something to give us the upper hand," Rath began.

"We need to kick Tut!" Nefertina scoffed at him, her whip snaking out defiantly.

"You kick...Tut?" Max asked, groaning and turning incredulously to his friend.

"Hey, come on, it's funny!" Presley argued, spreading his hands.

"Um...to each his own, I guess," Max shook his head.

Whatever would have been the rest of the debate on differing senses of humor was cut off, however, by the emergence of still more Shabties from seemingly everywhere. They crowded the space relentlessly, filing in until there were masses of stone bodies in every direction. The heroes drew together, daunted at the sheer numbers they were up against.

"So...about that plan," Nefertina said. Rath gave her a scathing look.

"Do not fear, for the Mighty One is destined to be victorious," Virgil intoned.

"Virgil, that's not helping," Max replied dryly.

Half-listening, Ja-Kal was once again struck by the differences between Max and Presley. Both boys were incredibly brave, standing side by side in the face of so many enemies who inevitably wished to do them harm, but there was something more to the Mighty One. His choice to remain with his friends had been both honorable and foolhardy, but he had proved himself on the field of battle. He was clever and had a knack for using advantages that many tested warriors would not be aware they possessed. But it went beyond that. What had Virgil just said? Max was "destined to be victorious." What could that mean?

His reverie was interrupted, however, by the emergence of a familiar and hated form making his way through the sea of Shabties . Scarab, untransformed, stepped into the clearing formed by the surrounding stone men, Hekka and Ammut trailing after. His pasty-white face was pulled into a sneer, and the ancient wizard looked both decrepit and cunning. After moving just beyond the protecting ring of Shabties, he stopped, facing the group.

"Who's this?" Norman asked.

"That's Scarab," Presley said, as though it were obvious.

"Scarab? You mean this ancient windbag is the same as the beetle guy from last night? Oh, man!" Max laughed. "He's older than the hills! And uglier!"

"That's what you said about Jonayaiyin," Norman said quite softly. Max immediately sobered and nodded silently.

"Ah, so you are the famous 'Cap-Bearer' I have heard so much about," Scarab said coldly, turning the boy's honorific into an insult. "I must say, you could do better than these pathetic mummies for allies."

"Yeah, and you could do with a better tailor. What's your point?" Max quipped angrily. Presley snickered.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Immortality, world domination, and all that. Both of which await me, but only with the help of the soul of young prince Rapses. Therefore, I will make you all a deal: give the boy to me, and the rest can go free."

"Haven't we heard this before?" Nefertina asked.

"It's a trick," Ja-Kal declared between clenched teeth.

"It's always a trick. So what else is new?" Armon pointed out.

"Have it your way, then," Scarab shrugged. He smiled evilly, then turned and retreated into the sea of Shabties. From the crowd, his sinister voice echoed, "Take them!"

"Let's kick Tut!" shouted the mummies, launching into action. As the wave of Shabties crashed over the rest of the gathered resistance, it quickly became a mishmash of flashing weapons and magic and flying bits of enemies. Presley used his Boomer-Ra to great effect, easily slicing through arms and legs and impairing his victims. Max went on as before, utilizing his own agility to cause the Shabties to crash into each other and shatter. The mummies and Norman let loose their skills with an almost gleeful zeal. Virgil remained in the background, studying his scroll and periodically sticking out a clawed foot to trip and unsuspecting enemy at a critical moment. In spite of their significant numeric advantage, the Shabties were outgunned once the heroes had room to work.

Things seemed to be going incredibly well until, almost simultaneously, Max and Presley were grabbed from behind and restrained. The Shabties crushed the boys against their chests, locking their arms down with stony strength. Both let out indignant yells, drawing the attention of their protectors.

"Mighty One!" Norman roared, physically removing all Shabties from his path and sprinting to the side of his friend. The stone-being in question was swaying on his feet as Max rocked his weight back and forth, attempting to unbalance his captor. At precisely the right moment, Norman struck, slicing through rock but not through the Cap-Bearer, removing both head and arms. Max dropped easily to the ground, landing neatly on his feet.

"Thanks, big guy," he said gratefully before turning to return to the fight.

Meanwhile, Presley's captor had been attempting to wade through the mass of bodies and battles to reach Scarab. However, he had only penetrated a few feet when a thick cord struck him square in the back, shattering him at the waist. As his arms disintegrated, Presley fell, managing to roll when he hit the pavement and come up standing. He gave a thumbs-up to Nefertina who stood smiling.

"Good shot."

"Thank you, my prince," she grinned.

The heroes regrouped around the Hot-Ra, holding back another wave of Shabties. The recent peril of their charges reminded everyone that they could not indulge themselves in the fight forever, but rather must return to the matter at hand: the safety of Max and Presley.

"I believe a retreat is in order," Rath said, his sword whistling through the air.

"Indeed," Virgil said thoughtfully from just behind the snake-avatar. "If everyone but the Mighty One would get into the…vehicle and drive at my direction, I believe I can lead us to a solution." Virgil stumbled over an appropriate term for the Egyptian "chariot" at their disposal.

"Um...what am I going to do?" Max asked, appearing beside Virgil. The ancient fowl squirmed.

"Well, you see, there is a portal nearby that we can utilize, but..."

"Today, Virg!"

"You must perch on the hood of the car in order to open it for us. Otherwise the portal will open mid-way through the engine and cut the Hot-Ra in half. And I'm sure our new friends would be displeased if that were to happen."

"Can something that big go through the portal? We've never done it with a car before!" Max pointed out.

"No, but it is theoretically possible. I conjecture the probability is in our favor that the portal will envelop the Hot-Ra entirely and drop it on the other side still functional." Something about the tone of Virgil's voice reminded him of the way scientists sounded right before accidentally blowing something up, something they had just assured their audience should be perfectly safe.

"What's on the other end of the portal?" Norman asked, drawing near. "Better not be the ocean."

"Of course not," Virgil said, an offended shade to his words. "Simply a stretch of what should be peaceful farmland and open field in the American mid-west. We will be able to re-enter another portal nearby to return to the San Francisco area."

"Let's do it," Armon voted.

"Yeah, before any more of the Shabties show up," Nefertina said, gesturing. The crowd of Scarab's minions had thinned and appeared to be pulling back for a second wave. The heroes had a few precious moments when they were not accosted to decide.

"I agree. Let us risk it," Ja-Kal decided, jumping nimbly into his customary seat after settling Presley in place.

"I always wondered how it felt to be a hood ornament," Max commented glibly, scrambling astride the narrow nose of the Hot-Ra. The other mummies and Presley gathered on-board, squishing Norman between them. Virgil clambered up to sit behind Max to give directions.

"Please head in precisely...that direction," Virgil called, pointing with a feathery hand. His other hand was bunched in the back of Max's shirt, as his short, clawed legs were insufficient to maintain his balance on the rocketing machine. Nefertina attempted to drive carefully, not shooting to full-speed right away for once, but the starting lurch was a risky thing for the precarious perchers nonetheless.

After what seemed like the longest dozen yards in history, Nefertina doing her best to avoid encroaching Shabties, Max felt the rush of a portal prickle down his spine. A heartbeat later, the sound of thunder echoed in his ears as the Cap leapt to life and, with its inborn power, reached into empty air and opened the gateway across space. Max wrapped an arm around the very tip of the vehicle, using the other hand to hold tightly onto his Cap. Virgil tightened his grip on the Cap-Bearer's shirt as well, anticipating a particularly bumpy ride through the portal.

They were not disappointed.

-==OOO==-

 

In Max's history of portal-hopping, nothing had ever felt as alien and terrifying as this single trip into a portal did.

As the car shot through the whirling disc of light and energy, it suddenly seemed as though they were all in a high-speed free-fall. The portal flickered, growing dimmer, as though it were overwhelmed somehow. Max could feel the fabric of the causeway struggling to move such a large, foreign object, and he knew without knowing how or why that the portal simply couldn't handle the burden and was in danger of collapsing. The power flashed and rumbled around them, both wildly out of control and yet without the focused purpose it usually had. His stomach lurched and he fought the urge to lose his lunch as the falling sensation became even worse. The portal was literally coming apart around them!

The Mighty One was dimly aware of voices shouting behind him, but he was otherwise occupied. A sudden memory of his nearly world-ending confrontation with Skullmaster at Stonehenge flashed through his mind. He remembered hanging onto the scepter of the Crystal of Souls, and how the power of the universe had given itself to him to command. Maybe he could pull the same trick and get them through the portal safely before it fell apart. He was the Mighty One. He could control it. He had to; it meant all their lives.

Against every instinct, Max closed his eyes, turning his focus inward. Without knowing quite what he was doing, he willed the portal to sustain itself, to hold them until the end. He reached for the inborn power he knew he carried, and with his mind or his heart or his spirit, he knew not which, he tried to ease the strain on the portal's energies. Strangely, it was far more difficult than it had been at Stonehenge to channel and focus his own abilities into the forces around him. It felt something like attempting to lift an incredible weight with only one hand, but he refused to give up. After an eternity of the terrifying fall, however, he felt the portal shudder, and strengthen. A few seconds later, the passage through the portal was no more unusual than any other, save that he was exhausted beyond belief.

When the car suddenly popped out of the space between existence and fell the few feet to the ground, Max realized that, unfortunately, he did not have the energy left to hang on. The bump of the front tires on the hard earth jarred him loose, and the Cap-Bearer, with Virgil still clinging to him, flew uncontrollably into the air. He distantly heard more shouting, but he felt almost asleep, and was only dimly aware of the peril of their position. But before he could so much as work himself into a panic, he felt a strong arm wrap around him. Unwillingly, Max dropped into blackness.


	4. Differences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the characters from "Mighty Max" or "Mummies Alive!" or any other references that take place in this chapter. It's all owned by people with a lot more money than me, and people who have a lot of big corporations at their disposal. So envious…
> 
> Here we go!

Norman had traveled through more portals in his unnaturally long lifetime than he could count, but none was anything like this one. He had also fallen from great heights, many times, and landed safely without fear; this time white-hot terror shot through him and he knew with sickening clarity that they were all in mortal peril. The Viking didn't realize he was shouting until he recognized that the soreness in his throat came from the deafening roar of surprise and helplessness being torn from him. He had no time to spare a thought for the others crammed in the Hot-Ra as well, but he was vaguely aware they were shouting, too. Just when he felt he could no longer bear the feeling, it eased. With a rush of relief, Norman realized the portal was returning to normal. He looked ahead, to where his Mighty One and Virgil balanced on the nose of the odd car. Was it his imagination, or was something emanating from the Cap, something like wisps of light? It must be his eyes playing tricks.

The return to the real world caught him by surprise. As they landed heavily in a field in the full dark of night, Norman was horrified to watch Max lose his grip on the car and bounce into the air with Virgil in tow, thrown by the momentum of hundreds of pounds' worth of car going enormously fast. Even as he was beginning to leap out of the seat in which he was pinned to catch them, a flash of gold and blue blurred past. Norman threw himself from the Hot-Ra and rolled on the ground, coming up ready to catch his friends before they hit the earth. To his surprise, however, Virgil and Max were no longer falling. One under each arm, Ja-Kal's golden wings blinked in the starlight that lit the deserted area. He circled once before landing. Virgil shook himself as he settled back to earth, but Max hung limply from the falcon's arm.

"Mighty One!" Norman exclaimed, concerned. Ja-Kal shifted the boy so he lay across his arms, eyes closed and face white. Norman turned on the only source of information he ever trusted besides Max himself: Virgil.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"Well..." Virgil hazarded, straightening his wind-blown robes and attempting to collect himself, "it appears I miscalculated. I did not consider the possibility of the additional stress on the actual fabric of the portal when I conjectured that the Hot-Ra would pass through unharmed. Indeed, the vehicle held up quite well, but the portal itself was not able to maintain the amount of matter without assistance."

"Assistance?" Ja-Kal asked.

"You must understand," Virgil said defensively, "it isn't weight that defines what a portal can and cannot handle. Rather, it is the amount of empowerment that is passing through. We knew from previous experience that the Mighty One and Presley could travel safely with all of us without upsetting that balance. However, I did not realize until it was too late that the Hot-Ra itself was an object of great and sustained magic."

"It is," Rath said. The others, still in the vehicle, had circled the vehicle about quickly and abandoned it gratefully, gathering around the Lemurian. Most of them were more pale than usual at the difficult and frightening trip through the portal.

"Yes, I am now aware of that, thank you," Virgil said with great irritation. "But getting back to what I was saying, it is the amount of power that weighs heavily on the portals, not the amount of matter. In this case, we were stretching the limit of what the portal could safely accommodate. We may very well have caused the portal to implode on itself, if not for the Mighty One."

Sighing, he gestured at Ja-Kal to set the still-unconscious Max on the weed-covered ground of a fallow field. Taking a quick measure of pulse and temperature, he nodded to himself, then sketched a few calculations in the air. Everyone else watched, partly in respectful silence, partly still recovering from their experience. Finally, after several minutes, Virgil looked up again, speaking with a touch of guilt in his voice.

"The Mighty One has many gifts, and one of those is the ability to command the energies of his own universe. As a corollary to this, he is also consciously aware of how a portal 'feels' through his connection to those energies as well as the Cap. It appears that when the portal began to strain and collapse, he was aware of it, and therefore he decided to act. It should have been impossible, as the Mighty One is not attuned to the frequencies of this dimension, but somehow he lent his own inborn powers to the portal itself and held it together long enough for us to pass through unharmed. The effort appears to have drained him utterly, however. Luckily, he is only unconscious. The experience could have killed him."

Silence hung over the space for what seemed like a long time. Then, Nefertina spoke.

"So now what do we do?"

"We cannot use the Cap to reenter a portal with the Hot-Ra all together as we did; it would be far too dangerous for the Mighty One to so risk himself again. We will have to send it through separately from the rest of us," Virgil said thoughtfully. "In the meantime, I believe we should rest here until the Mighty One is awake and able again."

"I agree. That is the wisest course of action," Rath agreed, sounding shaken still.

"Indeed," Ja-Kal's voice had an edge to it, "but while we are waiting, Virgil, I have some questions for you that I want answered." Norman felt his hackles rise at the veiled threat in the mummy's voice, but a warning look from Virgil silenced the Guardian.

"Very well. Why don't you all come speak with me, then? Norman, you and Presley stay here and look after the Mighty One," Virgil said with the serenity of a king. With great dignity, he moved into the distance of the field, seating himself and waiting. Ja-Kal lit an arrow, then shot it into a pile of sticks near where Max lay prone, lighting a warm fire. Presley and Norman sat near it while the mummies returned to their usual, non-combative forms before joining Virgil.

"Virgil," Ja-Kal said, surprising his team but not the ancient fowl with the sharpness of his tone, "I believe there is much you have neglected to explain to us about Max. We were led to believe he was very like Presley, but he does not behave as befits such a one, and he appears to have powers entirely beyond the scope you previously defined. I want to know the truth."

"First of all," Virgil said patiently, as though he had been expecting this confrontation, "I did not mislead you, nor did I deliberately leave information out. I did not realize initially how different Presley is from the Mighty One; I, like you, assumed many commonalities between them. They are indeed remarkably similar, but significantly different as well.

"The greatest difference, I believe, between the prince and the Mighty One exists in the scope of their callings and gifts," Virgil continued. "Your young prince, like the Mighty One, is gifted with the ability to call upon creatures of great power, to win them as allies and bespeak them in the name of peace for the earth. He is also able to command and absorb those energies of the universe that are connected to the soul of Rapses that resides within him. But therein lies the distinction between them.

"Presley can control those powers and beings somehow bound to his legacy as Rapses, those powers born of ancient Egyptian magic or history or mythology. He is, thus, limited to those things that somehow intersect with Egypt . Whereas the Mighty One is not so bound; his powers and control and gifts extend to any and all creatures and powers in the universe, because he is a universal spirit."

"But he is no longer within his own universe," Ja-Kal argued. "You just said so yourself."

"I know. But I hypothesize that certain energies, like certain virtues, are truly 'universal' and cross the boundaries between dimensions. You are not surprised by the idea that we are bound by the concepts of good and evil, that we act out of honor and duty, though we come from another world. These ideas, fantastic concepts in and of themselves, are common to both dimensions. So, too, is much of the fabric of existence itself, and the Mighty One has access to that common material and energy."

"The powers you are ascribing to him would make him almost godlike," Rath said, scratching some hieroglyphics in the dirt and thinking.

"Indeed, except these abilities shall never be used that way. One, the Mighty One is unaware of how much potential power he could command, and his ignorance protects him from misuse; and two, he will always be bound by need. Only when the situation is dire will he truly have access to the faculties of control he utilized to save us within the portal. Thus, his true abilities remain in shadow except when absolutely required to save lives."

Virgil sat back, watching the others react to his words. Armon was nodding, looking slightly perplexed, but satisfied. Nefertina's face was blank, but there was an acceptance in her countenance that he interpreted as willing to believe. Rath's face was contorted as the scholar within him wrestled with the deeper calculations and philosophies underlying the concepts Virgil had outlined. But it was Ja-Kal Virgil watched most closely, as the falcon-avatar's face was tightly restraining some emotion.

"But..." Ja-Kal began, before his thoughts burst out all at once, "how can it be that a boy can be so powerful? And how is it that if he is so important, you allow him to risk himself so drastically? He fought quite bravely, but he should never have been allowed to fend for himself in the battle. You said he was destined to be victorious How can you justify putting him in such grave danger if he is so important?" His voice was bitter.

"Ja-Kal, there exists another difference between your prince and the Mighty One, a difference you must recognize," Virgil said, firmly but gently. "The prince is a target because of the soul he bears, and had he never been in danger, he would never have led anything but a normal life. He was called upon by the universe because of the threat posed by Scarab. Something similar exists with the Cap-Bearer, but it is not identical. You see, had Skullmaster never threatened Mighty Max, he would still be needed to save the world, for he is, in essence, a light to beat back all darkness. Your prince is the keeper of something precious that must be protected at all costs; indeed, it would be safest for him if he never left the security of the Sphinx. But the Mighty One must go out into the world and do battle for the sake of all. He may be at risk, but he cannot do otherwise. He is an active implement in the scheme of the universe, not to be defended himself, but to defend others."

"You're saying he, not Norman, is the muscle?" Armon asked.

"No, Norman is the Guardian for there are smaller problems that come up from time to time, such as the Shabties, which are easily dispatched. But the difference is that at the end, it must be the Mighty One who defeats Skullmaster and all evil like him, not Norman. Unlike your prince, who has no such destiny that we know of. It is possible that in the final confrontation it will be one of you who defeats Scarab, as likely as it is for Presley to be the hand behind the defeat. It is not written specifically how the end must come to this war. But in the case of the Cap-Bearer, he alone can beat Skullmaster. He alone can bring victory in dozens of similar battles. Not by muscle, as you put it, but by the virtue of his being, his choices, and his gifts."

I believe I understand," Rath said, face pensive. "It appears that, important as the soul of Prince Rapses is to the universe, your Mighty One bears a soul with far-reaching consequences and abilities. Indeed, as you said, while the prince must be protected at all costs, the Cap-Bearer must fight, even if it endangers him."

"A single grain of sand can tip the scales," Ja-Kal murmured to himself. "The pregnant lioness cannot risk herself in the hunt, but even a cub will fight to protect his mother if attacked."

"Umm..." Armon began, trading looks with Nefertina.

"Indeed," Virgil nodded. "The king must guard his storeroom against thieves, but he will lead his army into battle. So it is with the Mighty One."

"The prince is the storeroom and Max is the king. I didn't understand Ja-Kal's," Nefertina whispered to Armon who had started to ask someone to explain the metaphor. The ram nodded shared a secret smile with her.

"Don't...don't you worry about him?" Ja-Kal asked, the anger gone from him. His blue eyes were deep in thought.

Ja-Kal had made the same erroneous assumptions about Max that Virgil had about his prince, that they were very alike. Indeed, they were, but with the key difference that Virgil had so eloquently just described: one was to be protected and the other to be left at risk, because to do otherwise meant that good would fail before evil. But, even as he glanced back to where his boy sat huddled near the fire, staring into it in silence, a type of guilt choked him. He suddenly wondered how different things could have been had Presley, and Rapses before him, been given the kind of freedom and trust that Virgil and Norman placed upon Max. The Cap-Bearer had never been held back, his potential had been enormous, and so he continued to push the envelope of his own abilities and luck at every turn with no limits imposed upon him. Whereas, the prince was somewhat coddled, protected, and more often than not passive while his guardians did the work for him. The falcon began to wonder if, perhaps, they had been wrong in being so protective, if that in fact, Presley could be the equal of Max if he were ever given the opportunity.

"Every day," Virgil answered, and his voice was sincere. "The Mighty One has been much closer to disaster than I would ever have liked, and more than once I believed we had lost him to my own foolishness or a miscalculation. It..." the ancient fowl shook himself out of a few anxious memories, "I am enormously fond of him, and those times when it seemed we had failed him were torture. But he has a knack for coming up with the unexpected, and for surviving ordeals no other could. It does not keep me from worrying, and Norman will never relax his guard for even a moment, but Mighty Max has never let us down. All my faith is in him."

-==OOO==-

 

Presley settled himself near Ja-Kal's fire while he watched his friends move into the darkness to talk to Virgil. The boy wondered what could be bothering Ja-Kal. Leaning his head on his arms, propped on his knees, he stared into the dancing flames, periodically sneaking glances at Norman and Max. The enormous Guardian sat perfectly still, legs crossed, as though meditating. However, peering through the shadows, Presley could see that, in fact, Norman was tense, listening closely for any sound. His ham of a hand remained quite near his sword, and he practically loomed over Max, sitting almost uncomfortably near the still form. It wasn't fussing the way the mummies tended to fuss, though. It was a solid kind of protection, unshakable and ineffable as the earth, until something forced it to move. Then it would spring with the strength and speed of a panther.

Max was also motionless, but where his Viking friend was tense and alert, Max appeared to be deeply asleep. His face had lost some of the deathly pallor being near the warmth of the fire, and his eyes were snapping back and forth beneath his eyelids, as though he were dreaming. Presley pulled his outer shirt off, folding it gently. He scuffled on his knees across the expanse of grass and low brush to place it beneath the Cap-Bearer's head. Glancing up at Norman , he should not have been surprised to see his watchful eyes open and aware.

"I thought it might make him more comfortable," Presley said, almost apologetically as he put the improvised pillow under his friend's head. As he did so, the Cap came loose in his hand. Unconsciously, he picked it up to look at it.

"It doesn't look like much, does it?" Norman asked. The sound of his voice seemed to lend permission for Presley to examine it.

"No, it doesn't. I mean, I know this thing's an ancient and powerful key or whatever, but why does it look like a ball cap? Shouldn't it be a crown or a scepter or something? Something more...I don't know, old?" Presley asked, turning that Cap over in his hands. It looked and felt exactly like any old, worn, well-loved hat, with the exception that it had no tag in the back.

"But it is," Norman said.

"Is...what?"

"A crown or a scepter," Norman answered. Seeing Presley's perplexed face, the Guardian broke into an unexpected smile. Unlike his wolfish look from battle, this smile was genuine, what Max would have called his "Buddha smile."

"But...it's not," Presley protested.

"No, but it could be. The Cap is whatever the Cap-Bearer makes it. It looks the way it does because its part of the Mighty One. If he had lived a thousand years ago, it might have been a helmet. But for five-thousand years, it has been a Cap because it was waiting for this particular Cap-Bearer, and it needed to take on the appearance that would make it most useful in this time."

"It thinks?" Presley asked.

"No. It knows." Norman began to close his eyes again, but Presley interrupted again.

"Norman, do you think you could explain something to me?"

"You should really ask Virgil."

"I know, but I'm asking you," Presley said, feeling not that he was being blown off, but that Norman was telling him that Virgil had more answers. However, he wanted the truth, and he felt sure he could trust the warrior.

"Go on, then."

"Is...do you...do you think that Max is braver than me?" He squirmed as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

"Why would you think that?" Norman's eyes were fully open and his face was focused on the boy sitting before him.

"Well, he fights more than I do. And he takes risks I don't," Presley hazarded.

"There's a difference between what you don't do and what you wouldn't do," Norman pointed out. "Great warriors are not the only ones who are brave; they are just the ones who have the chance to prove it."

"I know. But, I mean, he can do so much I can't. Like with the portal. He could have gotten killed trying to save us, and I was just yelling because I was scared. He put all his fear aside for our sake," Presley said miserably. He felt so small, suddenly.

"Young prince," Norman said, firmly and very formally, "your mentors have told me of times you have agreed to sacrifice yourself for their sakes. They have spoken of your courage and strength under terrible circumstances. You fought valiantly with your Boomer-Ra today. I have no doubts about your courage. Why do you fear?"

"Because..." Presley felt things spilling out of him, "because it's not the same! Max gets to prove himself and I don't. You let him fight with you instead of just hanging back and taking care of the easy left-overs. He stayed with you in the alley, even though it put him at risk. And they," he nodded with a mix of frustration and shame at the mummies in the distance, "won't let me do that. So I started to wonder if maybe they protect me so much because they think I can't handle it. Because I'm not as brave or strong or smart as Max." He hung his head, staring at the Cosmic Cap in his hands.

Suddenly a large, strong hand gripped his shoulder; turning to look, the boy saw that Norman had moved to his side without a sound. The warrior from another world gave him a measuring look.

"They do you a disservice not to trust you," he said softly. "And I believe they will learn that in time. Even I am sometimes overprotective, but I know that a warrior is made by the sword, and Mighty Max will be a great warrior someday."

Presley nodded wordlessly. Norman squeezed his shoulder gently.

"Know this, Presley Carnovan: you will have my trust once you earn it. And having earned it, I, at least, shall never coddle you again." After a moment, Norman silently moved back to sitting beside Max's head, his eyes turning inward to listen for other dangers. It took Presley a moment to realize he still held the Cap in his hands. He leaned over to set it on Max's chest, and the Mighty One, even unconscious, moved a pale hand up to hold it tightly.

Moving back to his original position, Presley considered. Perhaps Norman was right, that his friends would learn to trust him in time. But there was still a dedication that Max had for being a hero that he knew he lacked in himself. It seemed that the Cap-Bearer had accepted and embraced his destiny in a way Presley had always avoided. He just wanted to be a 'normal kid,' not some hero. Max, on the other hand, seemed to like being a hero. And he was willing to pay the price that went with it as well. The boy-prince suddenly felt young and immature, somehow.

"I can do it," Presley thought fiercely to himself, staring into the fire again. "I am brave, and I can fight. I can do everything Max can do; I'll prove it. And then they'll respect me. And I'll respect me." But a part of his mind whispered that until he fully accepted the responsibilities as well as the adventure of heroism, he would still fall somewhat short to the Mighty One.

-==OOO==-

 

Elsewhere, Scarab stood impatiently amidst the debris of the battle, resisting the urge to kick something.

"Ammut! How long does it take to find one hair?" he demanded impatiently. The half-dog creature looked up from where he had been sniffing the ground, stupid eyes glassy. With an almost human-like shrug to himself, the being from the Western Gate turned back to the rock bits strewn about, crocodile's nose twitching like a rabbit.

"At least we found one," Heka pointed out patiently, stretched comfortably at the feet of her master.

"Indeed," Scarab said, tightening his fist on the glass vial he held. Within it were a few precious hairs from the boy-prince Rapses, pulled off when he had been accosted by the Shabties in the fight. Ammut had located them immediately, as though drawn by the tiniest pull of the pharaoh within them. But the others he needed, a sample from the Cap-Bearer, were proving much harder to find.

"I wonder if the boy's accursed luck will protect him," the ancient vizier considered. "Skullmaster did say something about that as part of his magic. But no, no magic can outdo that idiotic mutt's sense of smell. He'll find them."

"He was wearing a hat, you know," Heka pointed out. "Maybe none came off."

"Then we'll have to try again, more forcefully if necessary," Scarab declared harshly, clutching half of his goal in his withered hand. "The Ritual of Babi requires both, and I will not be denied."

Suddenly Ammut sat back on his haunches, leaned his strange head up, and let out a triumphant bark. With his tail, that of a lion, swishing back and forth excitedly, he waited for his master to hurry to the site he had marked. Scarab cursed his age and his robes as he made an ungainly sight stumbling across the parking lot. But the irritating creature was not in the wrong; there, caught on a jagged edge of rock along what used to be a torso, hung three tangled, bright golden hairs.

"At last," he rejoiced, carefully stowing them in another vial and tucking both into his robes. "Now we can begin. If all goes according to plan, the end of the pharaoh and the beginning of my eternity is at hand!"

 

-==OOO==-

 

In another world entirely, the only light cast by burning rocks and lava flows far below, a figure of evil sat enthroned in darkness. On a pedestal before him, a triangular crystal glowed with an eerie light. The smell of brimstone and the heat of millennia without fresh air made the place stifling and unbearable, but the monster was unmoved by it.

"Very soon, very soon the Cap-Bearer will be no more. And once he is gone, there will be none to prevent my return to the surface world and my destiny!"

Skullmaster's triumphant laughter echoed darkly into the expanse of the underworld.


	5. Dissent In The Ranks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own…aw, heck, you know the drill. Consider all previous disclaimers at work here.
> 
> Onto the show! Er...story. Whatever!
> 
> Enjoy!

"Ugh," Max groaned, waking a few hours later. "Now I know what a peanut-butter jar feels like when you scrape everything out of it..."

"Are you all right?" Virgil asked gently, bending over his prone body.

"Sure. Just got a headache the size of Montana ," Max grumbled, pushing himself into a sitting position. Almost instinctively, he clenched the Cap to his chest, as though assuring himself it was still with him. Then, with a habitual gesture, he jammed the object of so much envy on his head and looked around. "Um...what happened?"

"When the cosmic forces..." Virgil began.

"Somebody else tell me. Please," Max begged. Norman tried to hide his laugh behind a cough. Nefertina burst out in giggles. Everyone else but Virgil and Rath snickered. Rath looked indignant, and Virgil made a face, but internally, the fowl was glad the boy had the spirit to keep up his impolite but characteristic sense of humor.

"You stopped the portal from collapsing on us with your own energy. You've been resting," Norman said simply after recovering his composure.

"Oh."

"How are you feeling?" Presley asked almost nervously, retrieving his shirt from the ground.

"Didn't we go through this already?" Max asked, almost grumpily. "I'm fine. Why are we still here, though?"

"We have been awaiting your recovery before returning to the city," Ja-Kal answered. "It will be quite late by the time we get home."

"Late! Oh, no!" Presley exclaimed, smacking himself in the forehead ruefully. "Mom will have been going nuts! I'll be grounded for sure!"

"Sorry man," Max said, hauling himself to his feet. He swayed for a moment before steadying himself. If the others noticed his knees shake as they got used to blood and gravity again, no one mentioned it. "Let's get moving, then."

"Are you going to be strong enough for this?" Armon asked kindly as he kicked the fire out.

"Yeah, sure," Max said, touching the Cap on his head uncertainly. "I figure we should send the Hot-Ra through with some of you guys and Pres and I will follow after. That should keep us from overwhelming the portal."

"How did you know...?" Rath began.

"He knows. He's the Mighty One," Norman said, the slightest sound of reverence in his voice. Max shrugged.

"Indeed. The portal we need is approximately forty-five paces south-south-east," Virgil said, turning. Max walked alongside his mentor until he felt the Cap begin to react.

"Here," he said, gesturing as the portal lit before them. "Drive through. We'll be right behind you."

Nefertina bounced into the Hot-Ra with a little less energy than usual, seemingly hesitant given that the last time she had driven through a portal it had almost cost them all their lives. However, the lioness was not one to act out of fear, and so she set herself to the wheel. Armon and Rath joined her at a wave from Ja-Kal.

"Pass through. I shall wait with the others to ensure that our prince is not left unguarded," he said, standing beside Norman, Virgil, and the boys.

"He wouldn't be unguarded," Norman said, and there was a challenge in his voice.

"He is my responsibility," putting a hand on Presley's shoulder, "and while he might be safe under your watch, I will not abandon my duty." Ja-Kal's body was all sharp lines. Norman shrugged and turned, but those who knew him well could see something in the tightness of his jaw that spoke volumes.

"All right, let's motor," Max said, positioning himself with care so that he was close enough to the portal to keep it open, but far enough away that the width of the Hot-Ra would not endanger him. "Go for it. It'll be fine this time."

Armon, Nefertina, and Rath exchanged looks. They were all more than a little apprehensive about reentering a portal in the Hot-Ra. All three shrugged in unison. Outwardly calm, they collectively decided to trust the young boy before them, and with a touch from Nefertina the Hot-Ra roared to life. As though approaching it at speed would help with the residual nerves, the mummy raced the vehicle at full speed towards the spinning tunnel of light. All three were aware of the instant they entered the portal, and the world vanished around them.

"Are they all right?" Presley asked, looking at the spot that was once again empty air.

"Yeah, I think so," Max said. "I mean, we won't really know until we come out the other side. But they should be okay."

"Perhaps we had better give it a moment before we enter, just to be sure," Virgil said.

"In that case, I would speak with you, Mighty One, if you please," Ja-Kal said, striding a bit away and motioning for the Cap-Bearer to follow. Norman moved to escort his young ward, but a tiny wave from Virgil told him to remain where he was and let Max talk with the falcon-avatar alone.

"What's up?" Max asked, more than a little confused.

"I only wished to thank you for your service, Mighty One," Ja-Kal said solemnly. At Max's blank look, he continued, "You risked yourself to save us, both to buy us time to escape the alley and then again to save us within the portal. Our lives are dedicated to the protection of our prince, but you have saved him in spite of our failings."

"Hey, hold on!" Max exclaimed. "I didn't save anybody in the alley. I just stuck with my friends. You didn't need me to protect anybody there. And as for the portal, I was saving myself and Virg and Normie and you, too. I didn't do anything you wouldn't have done, really!" He reached out and put a hand on a strong, bandaged arm. "Nobody failed anything. We all do our part. So, while we're talking about it, thanks for pulling us up from the cliff after that first fight with Scarab. Okay?"

"The wisdom of the lion is that he knows he is a mouse," Ja-Kal intoned, smiling slightly. "Very well. We shall speak of this no more, then."

"Um, guys, my mom is going to be really mad," Presley called warningly as they returned to the site of the portal.

"All right, let's get going. And," Max smiled with a look of sudden inspiration, "I think I've got a way to keep you out of trouble..."

-==OOO==-

 

It turned out that Presley was not in danger of being grounded after all, not after Virgil explained some not-quite-true things to Amanda. After a convincing apology on the Lemurian's part for their tardiness, he simply told her that they had been deep in a discussion of metaphysics and philosophy and that they had lost track of the time. In addition, he asked Mrs. Carnavon's permission if Presley could accompany them for the weekend, as the boys seemed to be hitting it off and they would be spending a great deal of time studying history and science together. Presley contrived to look bored, but eager to go nonetheless, and his mother ate the story up with a spoon. His backpack full of stuff to last the weekend, he could barely contain his excitement as he bounced down the steps.

"Virgil, you're the greatest!" Presley rejoiced as they met up with the other mummies nearby. "Now I won't have to do any chores this weekend, mom will think I'm doing work, and I get to stay with all of you!" Generally speaking, Presley didn't really like spending all his time with his very-protective guardians, but Max was another story. He had never had someone his own age to talk to about all the things that happened. He had never had someone he wanted to emulate and learn from, either. And with Max, Virgil, and Norman around, he had a bit more breathing room than usual with his mummies, and the potential for a lot of fun as well.

"Well, you will indeed be doing work," Rath said, giving the boy a knowing look. "You are quite behind on your studies of magic, my prince."

"Although your Egyptsu comes quite well," Armon put in.

"As does your tracking and your Boomer-Ra skill," Ja-Kal added.

"Oh, come on! Can't we let the boys have a little fun?" Nefertina exclaimed. "We've got him for all weekend! Look, it's only about 9:00 and there's a bunch of new movies out. Let's do something else for once!" Armon and Rath both looked like they were going to agree, but their leader cut them off.

"No. The prince must continue his studies as usual, and you will remember that we are here to guard him, not entertain him," Ja-Kal said sharply.

"You're wrong. We're also supposed to take care of him. Not bore him to death," Nefertina retorted.

"The desert rose cannot flourish in a hail-storm," Ja-Kal said.

"Yeah, well, it can't live without sunlight either," the lioness said bitterly.

While the other mummies and Presley stared at their feet uncomfortably, somewhat accustomed to this particular argument, Max, Virgil, and Norman traded incredulous looks. They had had their share of fights, but this sounded like a recurring theme between the mummies, and it proved everything Presley had been complaining about was true.

"Our duty to our prince is our one and only concern!"

"Just because you can't think farther than duty doesn't mean everybody else feels that way, Ja-Kal!"

"Just because you are incapable of behaving honorably with regard to your own duty does not give you the right to endanger others!"

"You...you are the most arrogant, the most narrow-minded, the most selfish person I've ever met!" Nefertina shouted.

"And your attitude is unworthy of guardianship. How can we fulfill our duty with someone like you on our team?" Ja-Kal spat back.

Then there was silence.

After a few agonizing heartbeats, the Mighty One stepped forward, arms outstretched.

"Hey, come on," he began in a conciliatory voice, "chill out, guys. Don't fight. Why don't we all just go back to the Sphinx and we can talk things out?"

"Do not interfere, boy" Ja-Kal warned, barely restraining his anger.

"Never mind, Normie," Max said hastily as his Guardian took offense and looked ready to do something that would definitely not improve the situation. The Cap-Bearer looked from Ja-Kal's simmering face to Nefertina's silent and stony visage, and he suddenly felt the need to shout at them both. So he did.

"A 'boy,' am I? At least I don't act like some kind of petulant child! You're Presley's guardians, and all you can do is stand there and scream at each other instead of doing what's best for him! I respected you, but I guess I was wrong," Max spat, his face screwed up in frustrated anger. "You should both know better. Why don't you both back off and think about Pres for a while, huh? Or is that too much to ask from either of you?"

Then Max was reminded of the difference between silence and utter silence. He hadn't known things could be more awkwardly quiet, but they were. He held his ground, glaring.

"I'm going for a ride," Nefertina said after a moment, her voice so tightly controlled it barely sounded like her. Ja-Kal made a move as if to stop her, but her eyes bored into his and he stepped back. With two quick, stiff strides, she threw herself onto the Jet Cycle parked next to the Hot-Ra. The lioness set off with an abrupt roar of ancient engines, never looking back at the group behind.

"You should mind your own business!" Ja-Kal rounded on Max. He advanced menacingly, and Max met him halfway, arms crossed against his t-shirt. The difference in their heights bordered on the ridiculous, like a parent scolding a child, but Max never gave an inch. The proximity and directed anger only made him more determined.

"What kind of leader insults their teammate like that?" Max demanded. "For all you say you believe in duty and honor and protecting your prince, I think you only care about yourself! I don't know what your deal is, but this is not a dictatorship. If you can't keep your own temper, you're no more worthy than you think Nefertina is! Leadership is a privilege, not a right, and you just lost it."

"How dare you?" Ja-Kal thundered, grabbing the boy by his collar and hauling him off his feet.

"That's enough!" roared Rath. "Ja-Kal, control yourself!"

"Put him down," Norman menaced, sword out. He liked the mummies, but nobody threatened his buddy. Armon attempted to put himself between the Viking and his leader, then thought better of it and rounded on Ja-Kal instead.

"Come on, calm down guys," Armon said pleadingly.

"Norman, you're not helping," Virgil muttered, taking Armon's place in front of the protective Guardian.

"You...you..." Ja-Kal said, nearly speechless with fury, shaking Max slightly. The Mighty One showed no fear, only a collected and obstinate firmness. He met Ja-Kal's eyes unflinchingly.

"Ja-Kal?" came a soft voice. Presley stepped up beside his mentor and put a hand on his arm. "Please stop."

Ja-Kal turned, looking in surprise at his prince, about whom he had completely forgotten. The boy, who had bravely stood against monsters, evil viziers, elemental spirits, and a host of other threats, looked small and vulnerable when faced with this unbridled anger by his friend. His face trembled as though the prince were trying to hold back what he was feeling but there was sorrow in every line. Presley looked past his guardian to where Max still dangled from the bandaged hand. They shared a look the falcon could not read, then Max nodded.

"Put me down," the Mighty One ordered. His voice was not loud, but there was a commanding tone to it that expected obedience.

"I...I'm sorry," Ja-Kal muttered to the figure in his grip, suddenly ashamed of himself. He had lost his temper, upset his prince, driven off one of his best friends, threatened the Mighty One, and dishonored himself and his duty. He set Max down gently, unwilling to meet the regal blue eyes before him. Turning to Presley, he found that even worse were the pained and disappointed eyes of a boy he cared for almost as a son. The falcon felt small and terribly inadequate against the measure of Presley's expression.

"I believe a real apology is in order," Rath advised stiffly.

"My prince...I'm so sorry," Ja-Kal began, the words spilling out of him. "I don't know what came over me. I just...there's no excuse. I should never have said anything like that, especially in front of you."

"You're right," Presley said harshly, some of his hurt sounding roughly in his voice, "but you need to apologize to Nefertina before you say you're sorry to me. She deserves it. Go find her." And with that he turned and moved towards the Hot-Ra without a backward glance. Ja-Kal moved to follow, but Max intercepted him.

"Why don't you go find Nefertina and talk to her? We'll be at the Sphinx when you want us." His voice was quiet, but his gaze was piercing. Ja-Kal almost pushed past him, almost forced his way to where Presley was sitting resolutely in the Hot-Ra and pointedly avoiding eye-contact, but a look from the Mighty One stopped him. Max's face was now more open, and an understanding look crossed his features.

"I want to tell him I'm sorry," Ja-Kal said softly.

"I know. But he needs to hear it from both of you, and he needs to know you're okay with each other again before he can be okay with you. Let him go and come back when you're both ready," Max advised. He turned on his heel and climbed into the vehicle, sitting in the back beside his friend.

"How does he do it?" Ja-Kal asked idly, wondering at the authority and maturity shown by a boy who only a few hours earlier had been playing video games and laughing like any kid his age.

"He's the Mighty One," Virgil said with a slight, satisfied smile. It amused him how often he and Norman told people that before they really believed it. The fowl and Guardian joined their friend in the Hot-Ra, leaving Ja-Kal with Rath and Armon.

"The Cap-Bearer is right," Armon said staunchly. "Go find Nefertina and apologize. The prince will feel better when you're both back."

"Indeed. We shall wait for you. And, Ja-Kal," Rath said, arching an eyebrow, "try not to be too upset with her. Nefertina's whole life has been one constraint after another. If she seeks a little freedom now and again, can we really blame her?"

"I...I hadn't thought of that," the mummies' leader admitted. Rath nodded, squeezed his shoulder, and walked with Armon to the Hot-Ra. Ja-Kal did not bother to watch the snake-avatar steer the chariot deftly down the road towards the rest of the city. Instead, and with a remarkably heavy heart, he transformed, took the sky, and began seeking Nefertina.


	6. Past Lives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own the series – I just enjoy them a lot.
> 
> Back to the action…

Speed had always been Nefertina's escape. For as long as she could remember, she had used horses, chariots, and now the Hot-Ra and Jet Cycles to outrun her feelings. As the roads vanished beneath her, the lioness was startled to find tears on her cheeks. But she kept her mind numb, lost to the rush of the wind and the quickness of her reflexes. It was by instinct alone that she navigated the hilly and complicated streets of the city. By the time she really took in her surroundings, Nefertina found herself perched above the Bay, deep in a park she knew well. The mummy-girl threw herself off the Cycle, nearly stumbling to the edge of the precipice that gave a breathtaking view of the Western Gate. There, alone with her thoughts, she wrapped her arms around herself and sat on the cool grass.

"Ja-Kal is such a jerk!" Nefertina found herself saying. "How could he accuse me of not being worthy of guardianship? After everything I've given up, everything I've risked, just so I could dare? What does he really know anyway? He was never a girl in Egypt!"

The lioness dropped her head on her arms, closing her eyes. A hundred memories flew through her mind, memories of life under the oppression of a society that viewed women as little more than property. She remembered her fear when she had first dared pass as a man, and her exhilaration on being accepted as the pharaoh's own charioteer. The world had been against her, everyone but Prince Rapses, and it would have meant her life had he betrayed her.

"The prince was the only one who ever knew I was a girl, and he gave me the chance," she mumbled around a few more tears. "He alone saw my passion, and he gave me a chance. He was my first real friend, since he was the first one I could trust. How could I ever let him down?"

Another memory came then, not of the ancient days gone, but the more recent past. Apep, the "Serpent of the Desert," who had suddenly returned to her life. She had heard of him, long ago in Egypt, but it was when he reappeared in San Francisco, and then again from beyond the Western Gate, that she realized how much she had truly sacrificed. He was so alive, so free, so dangerously exciting and yet so full of potential for honor. Her heart had urged her to accept his offer, to join him, but duty had held her back.

"I refused him. I never even really let myself consider what it would be like, allowing myself to have feelings for a man. But I gave my heart away to the service of Prince Rapses and for as long as I'm needed, I don't have the right to choose love."

Sudden anger lit through her and she jumped to her feet, tears flowing freely.

"I've never been allowed to choose! My whole life, I have been bound by the world or my own fate. How could Ja-Kal ever think I don't understand duty? I have never had anything else!" She was completely unaware that her voice was rising to a near-shout.

"I've been shackled forever, for thousands of years, not free to live as I choose, and he won't even let me have a little fun? At least in this world I have a few options, at least I can live as a woman instead of a lie! It's not fair! How can he lecture me when all I've ever wanted was the freedom to decide what life I wanted for myself?" Nefertina caught herself and hugged her arms again, seeking comfort from the little conviction she had left.

"I'm not asking to give up guardianship," she admitted aloud. "Even if I knew love, I can't abandon Presley. He's been my one real friend for longer than anyone else. All I want is to live the rest of my life as much as I can, maybe try and make up for the rest of what I can never do. Is that so wrong?"

"No, it's not," came a voice from behind her. Nefertina whirled in sudden alarm. Ja-Kal had landed behind her silently and was looking at her from beneath his falcon's hood. She clenched her hands and angrily wiped away the remaining tears on her face.

"What are you doing here?" the lioness demanded furiously.

"I…I came to apologize," Ja-Kal said hesitantly, moving closer with one hand outstretched. As he took a few steps towards her, Nefertina could see something sincere in his eyes. She waited in silence, standing stiffly.

"Nefertina, I didn't mean what I said. I should never, ever have accused you of something so dishonorable as I did. I lost my temper and I took it out on you. Can you forgive me?" the falcon said, and while there was something hard in his voice, as though the apology cost him dearly, there was a genuine sadness too.

"I…I guess I'm sorry for what I said," Nefertina began, but her heart was not in it. Ja-Kal held up a hand.

"No you are not. You are still hurt by my words, and worse, by my attitude. You have no need to apologize to me. Had I not pushed you, you would never have reacted as you did. It is my own fault that I was bit when I tempted an asp." He took a deep breath and continued, "Rath reminded me that your life has not been easy, that you have had to fight for every freedom. I…I haven't really made that any easier for you. I know I'm duty-driven, but you were right. Not everyone thinks the way I do. And as a leader, and more importantly, as your friend, I have to respect your choices and needs."

"I just want to live a little," she replied almost sheepishly but with her head held high. "This new world believes in equality for all people. It's a wonderful concept, Ja-Kal, one I wish we had had in Egypt. I won't live in a man's shadow if I don't have to. Not even yours."

"Nor should you," he replied. "I must learn to understand that your heart is always in your duty, even if your spirit is flying free."

"I will never let the prince down," Nefertina responded, voice confident. "Even if I want other things, that is one choice I made and I will live with. It is still an honor to protect him, and I accept that honor with all my heart. But the rest of my life is mine and I won't let you decide it for me."

"I will try not to," Ja-Kal said, closing the distance between them. The evidence of tears on her cheeks shot another pang of guilt into his already sunken spirit. How could he have been so foolish and so blind with regards to someone he thought he knew?

"Is the prince upset?" Nefertina asked, seeing shadows in the falcon's face.

"Yes," he said heavily, "and we must both apologize to him before he will forgive us, I believe."

"We really were out of line."

"Yes. Do you think you can forgive me and come back to the Sphinx now? Or do you need more…space?" Ja-Kal asked, trying now to be aware of her feelings.

"Well…" Nefertina considered. She wanted to stay alone in the park longer, find some peace in herself between the calling of her duty and the desires of her heart, but she felt that she was far more needed elsewhere. Presley was hurt, and she could not in good conscience leave him any longer. "No, I'll come back now."

"Very well. I'll fly above you and meet you there." The falcon-avatar spread his wings once more and, after watching Nefertina mount and start the Jet Cycle, took to the air himself. Flying carefully overhead, he began the journey home.

-==OOO==-

 

Ja-Kal rarely allowed his mind to wander, but somehow flight often shook lose his strict emotional control. Unbidden images rose in his memory, memories he had suppressed with a near-fanatical desperation. Tia, his wife, in their rooms within the pharaoh's palace, smiling and playing with their son Padjet. A flash of pain tore through his heart, and he was grateful that here, high above the city, none could see his face.

"I never really got to say goodbye to her," he thought in sadness. "We believed we had our whole lives ahead of us, to be together, to raise our son. We took so much for granted, and now...now I am here in the future and she is three-thousand years dead. I left her, and I never got to tell her how much I loved her."

The falcon suddenly understood why he had been so angry with Nefertina. All she ever wanted was to enjoy the life she now had the freedom to live. But for Ja-Kal, the life he wanted was far in the past, dead and gone in the sand. Nefertina's opportunities were opening wide for her in this new world, but his own heart's desires could never be fulfilled here. He wanted his family back, wanted the time that had been stolen from them. No wonder, then, that he threw every ounce of his energy into guardianship and duty; if he gave himself time to think, he would go mad with loss and grief.

"All I have left is my honor, and precious little of that," Ja-Kal thought bitterly as a burst of cool air from the upper atmosphere struck him full in the face. "The rest has been taken away. So if all I can live for is to restore my honor, then I will do my best. And perhaps the gods will reward me at the end of this curse and send me beyond the Western Gate where I might find my family."

"But what about Presley?" whispered a tiny part of his heart. "Doesn't he count as something to live for?"

"He does..." Ja-Kal considered, "but he shouldn't. The prince is not my son. My son is dead without ever knowing me. Whatever I may share with Presley is, and must be, grounded in duty. I failed the prince once and he died. I failed my son and left him without a father."

Sudden, white-hot anger blazed through Ja-Kal, startling him so badly he nearly fell out of the air. Hate. He was eaten up with the piercing emotion. He hated Scarab for what he had done to all their lives. He hated his brother for joining that treacherous vizier and aiding in their deaths. But he also hated his team in a jealous way. He was furious that Rath and Armon took no harm from their jump to the future; they had lost nothing compared to himself. And Nefertina was actually happier in this new time! The falcon would trade anything to go back to the past, and here was his teammate, rejoicing in the loss of that world. It stung sharper than any blade.

"But worst of all is Presley," a part of his mind pointed out. "If Prince Rapses had not been so easily fooled and led away by Scarab, none of us would have died trying to save him. If he had never been reborn in Presley, we might have been allowed to continue on after death instead of being trapped in limbo as we are. Then I would be with Tia forever. Instead, as long as the boy lives, we are all of us bound to un-dead life, monstrosities barred from rest and eternity. If we just gave in, let Scarab take the prince's soul, we might all be able to die at last."

Ja-Kal's whole body contorted in disgust at the thought. He knew he had been keeping his feelings buried for too long, but to have actually considered betraying Presley just for his own gain was unspeakable! More shame piled on his heart, adding to the earlier burden, and the weight was such that he felt suffocated and crushed beneath it. He felt awful for placing fault on his teammates, and on Presley, for his own pain. It was no more any of their faults than it was his own; the only blame worth levying was against Scarab himself.

"Forgive me, my friends, my prince. I am weak and foolish and I know not what I do," he thought miserably. "I would give almost anything to see Tia and Padjet again, but to abandon or fail my duty will never redeem me. And," with a twang of something he chose not to identify, "even if the wolf loves the lion cub, he can never be a true member of the pride. The wolf does better to defend the cub but never feel for it, thus keeping their packs forever apart."

Relentlessly, the falcon forced his body through the air, pushing thoughts and fears and pains back to the locked cage of his heart. Tormented by the past as well as the present, caught between what his heart cried for, what he denied himself, and the rage he held in check, Ja-Kal knew he was slowly losing control. His deplorable argument with Nefertina was but a symptom of an increasing mess inside, one he knew he had to put to rights quickly, before it got anyone else hurt.

So, with the effort of long practice, the leader of the mummies threw himself back into the accommodating mold of duty and station, where feelings were irrelevant. He was a cog on a wheel, a single arrow in a volley, emotionless and driven towards a predetermined calling. Everything else, everything outside that one function, he summarily dismissed, ignored, and abandoned. So, he told himself fiercely, was the hard way of a warrior.

-==OOO==-

 

"Are you all right?" Max asked Presley when Virgil and Norman had finally contrived to lure Rath and Armon away. The two mummies were very protective and worried about their friend, but Max had a feeling that their prince would rather open up to someone his own age than his guardians. So, while Rath and Virgil went back to whatever they did leaning over the old scrolls, and Armon and Norman went to spar, the boys had sat on the stone couch, grateful for the reprieve.

"Yeah, I guess," Presley said, shrugging noncommittally. Max gave him a shrewd look.

"No, you're not. If it were my friends fighting like that, I wouldn't be this calm. Come on, Pres, talk about it."

"You have to understand," the darker boy began, "it's harder for those two. Especially Ja-Kal. When they...died back in Egypt, he left a family behind. I think he's always kinda resented being here with us instead of, you know, dead with them. So his duty is his whole life, and whenever Nefertina pushes those buttons, all those old feelings come back."

"Woah," Max breathed. "I didn't know."

"He almost never talks about it. I think it hurts too much," Presley said, looking at his feet.

"It's not your fault, you know," Max said, things clicking together in his mind. "What happened then isn't your fault and where they are now isn't your fault."

"Sometimes I know that," Presley responded, his voice soft, "but sometimes it's really hard, knowing they're stuck here because of me."

"What about Nefertina, though? I mean, she seems to...well, like it here," Max hazarded.

"She does. If you were a girl back in ancient Egypt, wouldn't you rather be here?" Presley asked. "All she ever wanted was to drive chariots, and girls couldn't. She likes it here because she can be a girl and still do what she wants."

"You know them pretty well, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess I do," Presley said, surprised. "I mean, they're my friends, almost my family, you know? And so much happens to us, I've had a lot of time to learn about them. It's funny how all our lives, not just mine, come out in our adventures, isn't it?"

"You're not kidding," Max nodded, thinking of things he knew about his own friends from their encounters. Somehow, there was no such thing as "too personal" when it happened to heroes. Everything about their past, their feelings, it all came out eventually in showdowns with bad guys.

"Max, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"Do Virgil and Norman ever fight?"

"Well, yeah. Especially if you mention 'Rangoon,' so don't," Max said, pulling a face. "They've had five-thousand years to get on each other's nerves, and they're very different people. Normie's all fight and action, and Virgil is plans and thinking and study. Really, the only thing they ever had in common was me." Max smiled impishly.

"So...how do you deal when they fight?" Presley pushed, a little more of his hurt emerging.

"Well, I do what I did earlier. I try and make peace between them. And if they won't listen to me, if they keep going, I yell at them and then I let them cool off. They always get better when they've had time to think." Max neglected to mention how he had, on occasion, used the portals to forcibly separate his friends, especially when Norman's temper was in doubt. Having an enormous Viking with a short fuse for a guardian did have its drawbacks.

"And that works?"

"Sure. Because deep down, even if they're totally different, even if they don't have much in common, they're still friends. They still believe in the same things. Sometimes they step on each other's toes, but they're in this together, and that's more important."

Presley leaned back into the cool stone of the couch and thought. What Max was saying made good sense, and it seemed to have worked for Ja-Kal and Nefertina. But what Presley wasn't saying was that he felt he couldn't do that for his friends, not because they wouldn't listen to him, but because he was often the cause of their friction. It sounded like Norman and Virgil mostly fought over how to do things, or things that had happened. If they had actively been fighting over Max and the role of the Cap-Bearer, that would have been different. But somehow being the cause and the center for his friends' frustrations only made him feel worse.

"Did you...was there ever another Mighty One?" Presley found himself asking.

"Yeah, there was," and Max's voice was uncharacteristically quiet. "He died, fighting Skullmaster, my equivalent of Scarab. He trapped himself and old bone-face in the center of the earth, leaving the Cap behind so Skullmaster would be trapped forever. Virgil was there when it happened." Max closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"Ah, don't worry about it. It shook Virg pretty badly, though. He's always been protective of me because I don't think he wants what happened to the first Mighty One to happen to me. He once told me that he would rather have died than see me go the same way. And sometimes I know he's watching me and thinking of the first one." Max opened his eyes and fiddled with the Cap. He always felt somehow that he was unworthy of the mantle passed down by the first Mighty Max. Sure, he was destined to beat Skullmaster, but there was nothing saying he had to die to do it. It seemed anticlimactic somehow.

"So you do understand," Presley said, almost gratefully.

"Yep, I do."

"I wasn't the one there when Rapses got them all killed, but I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it. And you weren't the Mighty One who died, but you'll spend the rest of yours reminding Virgil that he did." Then the boy-prince made a fist and punched the arm of the couch in anger and pushed himself to his feet.

"It's not fair! All I ever wanted was to be a normal kid and instead I'm stuck paying for somebody else's mistakes that hurt a lot of people! Why should it be my fault that they all died?"

"It isn't," Max said, standing up beside his friend. "Don't blame yourself."

"I can't help it," Presley said miserably. "They do. Why shouldn't I?"

Max had nothing to add, so he put a hand on the boy-prince's shoulder in silence. Neither of them could undo what had been done thousands of years before their respective births. They could only live with the consequences left them, and slowly and steadily hope to make it better for those who had been hurt. It was a fool's hope, but it was all they had.

 

-==OOO==-

 

By the time Ja-Kal and Nefertina returned to the Sphinx, Presley had recovered himself and was laughing with Max again. Of course, it was hard to stay in a bad mood sitting watching the television with Armon, who continually expressed comic surprise at various images. The last straw in the boys' gloom broke when Armon pointed with awe at the man-sized purple "monster" allowed to play with children. When the great ram began singing "I love you, you love me..." along with the toddlers, Presley and Max collapsed in exasperated and helpless laughter. It was precisely the medicine both needed in order to feel better.

The mood sobered significantly as soon as the recently-feuding pair entered the common room. Unconsciously, Presley rose to his feet, but did not move from his place, surrounded by the others. Max noted with pride how the boy-prince squared his shoulders and stood tall, his head thrown back in a very noble manner. He looked more like a prince then than he had yet in their time together, and the effect on Ja-Kal and Nefertina was immediate. Both dropped to one knee before him. After a moment of silence, the falcon-avatar spoke, eyes turned down.

"My prince, I have come to apologize to you for my earlier behavior. It was inexcusable."

"And have you apologized to Nefertina as well?"

"He has, oh prince," Nefertina said softly. "We have spoken and forgiven each other. Please accept my apology as well, for I was equally in the wrong."

A long moment elapsed. Neither Ja-Kal nor Nefertina dared meet Presley's eyes, instead looking at his knees. Rath and Armon were watching their comrades and their prince very carefully. Max, Virgil, and Norman, all feeling that they should not be witnessing this exchange, sat quite still, trying to be unobtrusive. Virgil made a mental note of the fact that, while Presley was not yet the hero the Mighty One had become, this moment proved that he had the capability to be great. He needed only time, and experience.

"I accept both your apologies," Presley said finally, after looking closely at his two wayward guardians. His voice was strong and commanding, but there was an undercurrent of guilt whispered behind the words. If they heard it, neither of the kneeling mummies mentioned it.

"Thank you," Ja-Kal said with honest relief in his voice, rising. He placed a hand on his young ward's shoulder, blue eyes meeting green, before turning away. Nefertina rose as well and wordlessly gave the boy an impromptu hug. Presley smiled widely and the tension in the room eased. Everyone present knew that the problems remained, as did the pains and fears behind them, but for the moment, the friends had called a truce and could pretend to forget their own issues.

"Well, now that that's done with," Rath said, "why don't we get down to some real work?"

"But Rath, the purple rino-saur is still singing!" Armon protested.

"Dinosaur, dinosaur," Presley muttered, smacking his forehead.

"Whatever."

"Actually," Ja-Kal began, smiling slightly, "I believe Nefertina made a suggestion to have some fun tonight. What would you two like to do?" he asked, looking at Max and Presley. The boys exchanged mischievous glances. Presley nodded to Max, who grinned with an excited gleam in his eyes.

"Well..."


	7. The Best Laid Plans...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own "Mighty Max" or "Mummies Alive!" If I did, neither series would have ended, both would still be on the air, and you could get them on DVD. I take no responsibility for the characters owned by others, and if they do anything stupid, well, that's not really my fault either, now is it? Anyway, this whole thing is just for love of the two series, not for profit or fame. As if anybody could get famous writing fanfic in this genre!
> 
> Enjoy!

When Ja-Kal had asked what the boys thought would be fun, he had not anticipated the imagination of the Mighty One. Presley would probably never have come up with this on his own. The boy was impish, certainly, but he was also possessed of a natural respect for certain things which, apparently, Max was more than willing to question. The falcon sighed. He should have known better.

"YAHOO!" shouted Max as the Skycophagus shot through the air. Ja-Kal watched from a safe distance, hovering in the wind while the mummies' airborne contraption attempted maneuvers better left for the air force. But the Cap-Bearer could be incredibly persuasive, and there was no denying the boy had a talent for it. Of course, if Virgil was to be believed, the Mighty One had flown a similar craft or two before, with varying results.

Inside the craft, Presley whooped for joy as Max took the plane through its paces. Norman and Nefertina were the only other passengers, as the others had opted out of this particular ride, in spite of the fact that the extended cockpit could have seated them all. Having had a lesson in flight from Rath himself, Max had shown an uncanny skill in steering and handling in the air, at once aware of his proximity to the city lights, and therefore exposure to the public, and the particularly odd air-currents that surrounded the area. Rath had been unable to argue the boy out of his desire to take the controls, and had resigned himself to the inevitable. With Ja-Kal in the air with them, not to mention Norman and Nefertina along for the ride, the mummies were at least reasonably sure their young prince would be safe. Reasonably.

"Mighty One, watch out!" Norman cried as the Skycophagus dipped near the Golden Gate Bridge. At the last possible moment, he pulled up hard and shot high into the sky.

"Don't worry, Normie! I got it all under control!"

"That's what I'm afraid of," Nefertina said. However, the lioness was smiling, and enjoying herself. Here was real speed!

"Hey, guys? What's that?" Max asked suddenly, unexpectedly righting the plane and slowing down to a more normal pace. He pointed with one hand while gripping the controls with the other. Nefertina and Presley leaned against the windows to get a better look.

On the top of the Golden Gate Bridge, high above the bay below, there was a strange greenish glow. As Max steered in for a closer look, the group could see several figures standing on the bridge's suspension towers, gathered around the source of the light. Presley and Max both felt a shudder go through them. They turned to each other, alarmed, and shouted in perfect unison.

"Scarab!"

"Mighty One, why don't I...?" Nefertina began, intending to take control from him, but Max was already directing the Skycophagus to land. Because there were cars on the bridge below, he settled for the opposite tower, lowering the craft and bringing it to an easy stop. As the dome opened, Ja-Kal landed beside them.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Look!" Presley told him, pointing. "It's lucky we were flying by or we might not have seen it in time!"

"Come on, Normie!" Max shouted, excitement building as he jumped out of the plane. Without a moment's hesitation, the Cap-Bearer worked his way from the tower onto the suspension cables and began using the topmost wires like a bridge. Norman followed close behind, poised to rescue his friend should Max's feet slip. Presley, standing with Ja-Kal and Nefertina, stood still, watching.

"What are you doing?" he called.

"Going to stop him, of course!" Max yelled back. "Whatever he's doing can't be good, so I'm going to pay him a little visit!"

"What about Virgil? Norman asked.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about him." The Mighty One stopped, gripping the cables tightly. "Hey, Ja-Kal, could you go get Virg and drop him on the other tower when we get there? I don't think he'd like climbing..." Taking it as a given that someone would do as he had asked, Max turned to face front and continued to traverse the bridge carefully.

Presley felt torn. On the one hand, he wanted to jump after Max and join them; he had climbed these cables before, and knew he could do it. In fact, the place where Scarab was currently doing whatever he was doing was the same spot he had held Ja-Kal and almost traded the mummy for the soul of Rapses during an eclipse. Presley had tried to save his friend all alone that time, and the others had rescued them both. But his doubts about himself were coming back, and the boy-prince was afraid to follow. He turned to Ja-Kal and Nefertina, who were watching him closely.

"What should we do?"

"It is your decision, my prince," Ja-Kal said.

"We should stop Scarab, whatever he's doing," Nefertina said defiantly. Then, more sheepishly, "but if you wish us to stay out of the fight, we will obey."

"You are worried," Ja-Kal said. It was a statement, not a question.

"I guess. I just...I know it's supposed to be our job to take care of Scarab, but, really, why do they need our help anyway? They do this stuff all the time. They're probably better at it. And I...I just want to be a regular kid," Presley said, finishing his thought differently than he had begun it. But he could not admit to his friends that he feared not being good enough compared to his other-dimensional counterpart.

"True. But you are also a chosen one, and you have responsibilities as well as he does. However," and Ja-Kal put a hand on his shoulder, "you can send us into battle without endangering yourself. If you would prefer to wait here, we can go to their aid."

"I'm no coward!" Presley shouted, outraged.

"Of course not," Nefertina said hastily, "but we don't want you to get hurt..."

"I'm never going to get hurt unless you give me a chance!" Presley clenched his fists and strode purposely over to the same cable used by Max and Norman, who were making extremely good progress along its length. Without a backward glance, he threw himself onto the suspensions and began the climb. He would show them! If he couldn't be a regular kid, Presley was determined to prove himself a real hero.

Ja-Kal and Nefertina exchanged looks. They both knew that their prince was rushing into danger, and that he felt unworthy compared to the Mighty One. But there was simply no time to discuss the issue.

"Go and get the others. Have them meet us up there," Ja-Kal said, pointing to the other tower. "I'll stay with the prince."

"Are you sure this is the right thing to do?" the lioness asked, hesitating.

"No. But these are my orders."

"Again with the orders," she grumbled.

"Can't you just trust my leadership this time?" Ja-Kal asked exasperated. "I have enough to do looking after the prince." Nefertina nodded, abashed, and jumped into the Skycophagus, making her way towards the Sphinx where the others waited. She knew that by the time they returned her prince might already be in peril, but his guardians would not be far behind. This was not moment for an argument.

Ja-Kal re-spread his golden wings and took to the air, eventually settling on hovering in the space between where his prince was determinedly trying to catch up and where the Mighty One and Norman were picking their way along with greater confidence. The falcon wanted to be close enough to catch any that fell, although he had his doubts as to what he could do if the unfortunate one to lose their balance was Norman. Even transformed, there were limits to Ja-Kal's unearthly strength, and the Viking was enormous.

As Max moved along the cables, trying to tell himself that this was no worse than a rope-bridge over a chasm in a jungle, he tried to get a closer look at what was happening before him. He could see a big group of Shabties gathered in the small area, reflecting the odd green light on their stony bodies. In the center stood an untransformed Scarab leaning over something that emitted the eerie luminescence. As he got closer, he could see another glow, this one a sickly white, from some kind of pedestal to Scarab's left. The sorcerer appeared to be chanting and doing something that involved a lot of waving dramatically. The Cap-Bearer sighed internally. Personally, he hated magic. It was so much harder to deal with than a straight-on fight. And he had so little knowledge of it. He needed Virgil.

Looking behind him, he could see Presley following them on the cables, Ja-Kal staying about even with him, and the Skycophagus disappearing over the city. He nodded to himself. It looked like everyone would be in place at the right time, just able to disrupt whatever Scarab was doing. Perfect.

"Hey, Normie," Max called over his shoulder. "When we get there, make sure you keep those Shabties off me. I'm going for Scarab. But don't worry. You can play with the rock-guys!"

"I eat rock-guys for breakfast, no matter what Armon says," Norman replied with a savage smile. Max laughed.

"Don't worry, big guy," Max said, turning back to front. "Somehow I have the feeling we'll be seeing a lot more of them..."

 

-==OOO==-

 

As Scarab stood learning over the bubbling ingredients in his oversized incense burner, he knew without looking that Skullmaster was laughing. The otherworldly being's voice was muffled by the vizier's ritual chant, but that grating sound could cut through any noise. Truly, this was a fantastic plan. Scarab was not sure why he had not thought of it before, but with Skullmaster's help, it was proving to be child's play.

"It is almost time," Scarab said, finishing his mantra and standing back beside the pedestal where the crystal that served as a window between dimensions gave Skullmaster a perfect view of the ceremony. "There is just one last ingredient."

"And one last impediment; look behind you," Skullmaster said darkly. Scarab turned slightly to see a flash of gold in the air, buzzing like a fly around some figures on the cables of the bridge. He smiled.

"Indeed." Then, in an undertone, Scarab spoke to his gathered Shabties, "Keep them at bay." The stone beings showed no response. Heka, serving as her master's staff, turned to look up at him.

"Do you really think you'll be able to pull this off before they get here?"

"Oh, yes," Scarab whispered, holding golden and brown hairs in his other hand. "I will have time."

He watched with amusement as the two boys and one very large Guardian struggled on their climb up the cables of the bridge, Ja-Kal flitting about them like a nervous hummingbird. In the distance, he spotted another golden form flying through the air, presumably carrying the rest of the meddling mummies. Scarab turned away from the approaching boys to give them the illusion of catching him off guard. Unbeknownst to the so-called heroes, Scarab's crystal that bore the image and voice of Skullmaster was also reflective and gave him a fine view of everything behind him. With increasingly satisfied glee, he watched the boys inch closer and closer to him.

The crash of battle echoed in the near-stillness when the foreigners met the Shabties with an audible crunch and a loud yell. Scarab held his breath and waited, unwilling to miss his opportunity. He knew he would have but a single instant in which to react. The Cap-Bearer and the warrior were already beginning their assault on his guards, and to his immense relief, the young prince finally set his feet upon the solid ground of the tower, thus ensuring the soul he so needed would not fall to its death when he completed the rite. At almost the same moment, three figures dropped from the plane overhead which banked easily away, one bearing a small form under an arm.

"With shadow of desert and a beacon of fate, I bind these powers with the force of my hate!" Scarab shouted, opening his ancient hand and dropping the hairs stolen from the two boys into the wide, flat, bronze cauldron. There was a flash of bright light, and then a sound echoed that made the withered sorcerer smile: dual cries of pain.

-==OOO==-

 

"My prince!" Ja-Kal shouted, throwing himself to Presley's side as the boy curled down upon his knees in agony. He was vaguely aware that Norman had done the same over Max. The dark boy under the falcon's arm shook and gasped against an unknown hurt.

"Mighty One!" Virgil exclaimed, his clawed feet carrying him with surprising speed to his friend. Norman, eyes flinty with vengeful anger, stood astride the prostrate boy, daring any enemy to approach. Virgil put a feathered hand on the Cap-Bearer's shoulder. "What has happened?"

'It hurts..." Max mumbled around the pain. He felt at once like a wedge were being driven into the base of his skull, and also as though he had been speared through the stomach with something burning hot. Choking on his suffering, the Mighty One managed to raise his head and force open his squinting eyes. He could see Scarab's triumphant face, and at last could make out the figure in the white crystal beyond.

"Virgil," he said between haggard breaths, "it's Skullmaster."

"How?" demanded Norman, head swiveling to where his friend had been looking. Indeed, a known and hated face looked back from the other side of a prism beside Scarab.

"What have you done?" Nefertina screamed, ferocity racing through the lioness. She cast her whip against the nearest rock-being in sheer protective fury.

"At last, eternal glory and power will be mine!" Scarab crowed, ignoring the angry mummies. The mixture before him bubbled and glowed even more brightly, and the echo of Skullmaster's laughter haunted the scene.

"Normie," Max gasped around the agony, "you've gotta stop him."

"My pleasure," the Viking menaced. Leaping forward with a roar, Norman unleashed his full wrath and power, sweeping Shabties easily out of his path. As he barreled his way towards the sorcerer, Virgil crouched near his friend, looking up at Rath who was nearby.

"It appears to be a spell that is drawing strength and health from them," he said. The fowl surprised himself with how calm and clinical his voice sounded; inside his heart was hammering against his ribs as he watched the person he was sworn to protect writhe against unspeakable pain.

"Dark magic," Rath spat. He glanced worriedly at where Presley curled on the ground, Ja-Kal supporting him as he convulsed. "We've got to stop the spell before it is completed or there's no telling what it might do to them."

"Then let's kick Tut!" Nefertina and Armon responded viciously, launching an offensive of their own.

"Perhaps I can lessen the effects," Rath said, sheathing his sword and holding out his hands. "Waters of the Nile, quench this suffering and bring life and peace to those in need!" the snake-avatar shouted in a commanding voice, releasing all of his will and energy into the spell. A bright green glow extended from his body upward, struck the gathering clouds overhead, and splintered into vivid green lightning. The bright flashes spread through the clouds like fire, building the cloudbank into a greenish storm-front. Then a light drizzle began to fall. As the drops struck the group, two things happened at once.

The first, and most important in Rath's eyes, was that his prince and the Mighty One appeared to find some relief from the pain that had accosted them. Both boys were able to climb shakily to their knees, Max leaning on Virgil, Presley supported by Ja-Kal. They shared a dark look, however, as they herded their wits and bodies back into working order.

At the same moment, a furious "No!" was ripped from Scarab's throat as the healing rain splattered into his concoction. The vizier tried to shelter his potion with his spindly arms, but he could not prevent the teal-colored droplets from streaking through his grasp. Behind him, Skullmaster shouted his disapproval.

"Stop them, you idiot! It's already relieving them of the pain! Who knows what other damage has been done?" the bone-faced monster bellowed.

"Do you want to do this yourself? Oh, wait, you're in another dimension!" Scarab shouted back.

Meanwhile, the furious effort of Norman, Nefertina, and Armon had cleared a path straight to Scarab. Still acting under the rage of seeing his young ward in pain, not to mention the Cap-Bearer's direct orders, Norman charged the sorcerer, blade drawn, the other mummies close on his heels. Norman's blow was blocked by Heka's quick leap to her master's hand, buying the evil wizard the time to transform himself. Undaunted, Norman swung around and struck the pedestal holding the crystal with Skullmaster's face on it, causing it to crack in half with a very satisfying sound and spill the prism to the rock-littered tower roof. Armon and Nefertina launched their own attack on the now-airborne Scarab, but to no avail.

"You're still too late," Scarab growled, hovering over his precious potion once more. Before the three could engage him again, he spat a blast of black fire into the churning liquid.

> _"Dark of ages, dark of night,_   
> _Fire born of evil's plight;_   
> _Rise to conquer, rise to claim;_   
> _I summon thee, mine to tame!"_

Two simultaneous explosions rocked the tower. The swirling concoction shot into the air as though it were lava erupting from a volcano. It seemed to form a self-contained fountain, bubbling high into the air, splashing back into its own receptacle, and cycling back to the geyser. An answering blast from below set the entire Golden Gate Bridge to swaying violently. The Shabties that remained loyally gathered around their master's potion lost what little balance they had and fell, crumbling against each other or pitching down to the sea. The heroes clung to the tower, trying desperately to maintain their balance.

"What's happening?" Max shouted.

"I don't know!" Virgil exclaimed as he gripped the bricks beneath his feet with all his might.

"My prince, we must get out of here!" Ja-Kal shouted over the cracking and breaking of the bridge. He wrapped an arm securely around Presley's waist and prepared to take off into the air.

"No! I mean, we can't!" the boy gestured. He looked to where Norman had made his careful way over to Max and Virgil, and was aiding them in their desperate attempt to hold on as the bridge bucked like a bronco.

"They are not my concern," Ja-Kal said, and against his own heart, not to mention the selfless will of his prince, he hefted the darker boy into the air. As soon as they were even a few yards above the tower, Ja-Kal felt much safer about his charge. At least he would be clear of whatever put everyone else at risk.

"Ja-Kal!" Presley shouted, eyes wide. Now he could see Rath, Nefertina, and Armon all releasing bandages, attempting to climb shakily down from the height. Norman, Virgil, and Max were doing...something. He could not see what exactly from the angle. "We can't leave everybody there!"

"We're not leaving anybody. Now be still," Ja-Kal commanded. The boy in his arms was struggling in his will to get back to his friends, and it was unbalancing them. "Trust me. They'll be fine."

As he said this, an enormous explosion from below took their attention from the scene on the tower. From beneath the bridge, which conveniently stood over the door to the Western Gate, a figure was rising from the water. As it rose, growing impossibly larger and larger, the great icon of San Francisco began to buckle. Cars still on the causeway emptied as passengers began to flee in terror. Presley could not take his eyes off the form emerging from the rivulets of water, only barely aware that Scarab was hovering nearby, yelling something. The form, an amorphous blob-ish thing, seemed to react to his words.

Suddenly, the blob expanded outward, breaking out of the veil of shadow and sending water and wind and fire in every direction. Presley's stomach dipped as Ja-Kal's wings caught an updraft and the pair were carried into the sky like a kite in a storm. Turning back to look for his friends, the boy-prince was horrified to see the great Bridge collapse, towers tipping in on themselves in a heap of cables and stone.

"No!"

 

-==OOO==-

 

"Okay," Max gasped between tremors that shook the tower. "Looks like everybody else already split. We're getting out of here! Let's go, big guy!" The Mighty One jumped to his feet and in a smooth leap threw himself onto one of the vertical cables of the suspension bridge. Like a fire-pole, Max wrapped his arms and legs around it, then allowed himself to slide through the air and downward. The Guardian, Virgil held in one arm, followed his lead.

"Yahoo!" Max shouted as he slid in a half free-fall towards the rapidly-emptying causeway below. But he had only dropped a few yards when he knew without knowing why that something was wrong, terribly wrong. Instinct caught up with him then, and he tightened his body against the cable and stopped himself in mid-air, Norman stopping at his side one cable over.

"What is that?" the boy exclaimed, pointing. The huge form rising out of the shadows and casting fire and water around was impressive, right up until the bridge began to collapse. Max felt the cable go slack from above him, and suddenly it was a real free-fall.

Seeing the peril of the Mighty One, Norman wasted no time. He cast himself recklessly into the air, Virgil still held in his left arm, and caught Max in his right, tearing him off the dangerously whipping cables. Now the three were falling out and away from the dangers of both the rising figure and the collapsing bridge, but they were falling nonetheless. Norman's mind raced as he considered his options, which were few. So he did the only thing he could think of: he curled into a tight knot around his two friends and hit the water in a perfect cannonball, his own body a shield for Max and Virgil.

The impact hurt, and had Norman been anyone else, he would probably have been killed from the force of it, or at least suffered some major broken bones. However, his longevity and his pact with the gods gave him a greater degree of invulnerability than most, so while the water was jarring, it did not cause him much harm. It was surprisingly cold, though. Instinctively, the Viking began to kick for the surface, driven deep by the height of his fall. He could have swum faster had he let Max and Virgil go, but he intended to carry them both to safety. After an almost unbearable period beneath the frigid waves, he broke the surface of the water.

"Mighty One? Are you all right?" he asked breathlessly as he treaded water, holding his friends' heads above the surface. They were both choking on the salty ocean.

"Yeah...sure," Max coughed. "But I don't ever want to do that again."

"Nor I," said Virgil weakly. The Lemurian leaned on Norman, being completely unable to swim unaided.

"Come on. Let's get to shore," Max wheezed, pulling himself out of Norman's grip. He was incredibly grateful for the Guardian's protection, but he knew if he didn't move he would freeze. Though his whole body hurt from the force of hitting the water so hard, a few strokes at least made his shoulders feel a little better. Luckily, they were not too terribly far from the rocks that meant land. There was no thought or energy to spare for whatever had broken the Golden Gate Bridge; it was far too cold in the water to stop and look. So the Mighty One and Norman, carrying Virgil, made their way to the bank as quickly as they could.

"What is that?" Max asked through chattering teeth when they finally stood on solid ground again. Norman set Virgil beside the Mighty One and stared at the shape in the water.

"That is a BIG monkey."


	8. ...Of Scarabs and Gods...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nope, still don't own the rights to these two cartoons. Haven't acquired them in the last 15 minutes and it's not looking very promising for the future, either. Additionally, I don't own anything having to do with "King Kong" (except the PJ movie), "Godzilla," or anything else I may have referenced and forgotten. Just borrowing them for a moment.
> 
> On with the adventure!

"My prince, there they are!" Ja-Kal shouted, gesturing towards a small group of wet heroes on the shore. The falcon breathed a sigh of relief. His team was evidently unhurt. He and the prince had been scanning the shore for their friends ever since the tower had collapsed. After spotting the three mummies rappelling off the suspension bridge towards the shore before everything had fallen, they had lost track of them in the chaos. Landing, Presley ran to his other three guardians.

"Are you guys okay?" he asked anxiously.

"Sure. Takes more than a bridge to stop me," Armon winked good-naturedly, winning a smile from his prince.

"Yeah, we're a lot tougher than that," Nefertina grinned.

"Indeed. But what has happened to Norman, Virgil, and the Mighty One?" Rath asked, looking at Ja-Kal.

"We're...not sure. We were separated in the chaos of the moment," the mummies' leader admitted, looking at his feet.

"You mean you didn't save them?" Presley demanded of the remaining three. At the shaking heads before him, he rounded on all four of them.

"How could you just leave them like that? They're our friends and you just ran off! What kind of heroes are you supposed to be?"

"Well, when we saw you were safe with Ja-Kal we just..." Nefertina began.

"You just what? You figured you could bail? That nobody else needed anything?" the prince shouted.

"I guess so," the ram-avatar admitted sheepishly. "I mean, they can take care of themselves, can't they?"

"Look, we've gotta get something straight here," Presley said furiously. "I'm the pharaoh and you have to listen to me. I can't be your only concern, guys. I know you don't usually forget other people like this, but you have before and I don't want you to do it again. For all we know, somebody at least as important as I am is...in trouble, because you left him there!" Even this angry, Presley could not admit the possibility of Max not having survived the collapse that still echoed across the bay.

"We'll talk about this later," Ja-Kal said urgently, pointing. At last, the figure in the water, beneath where the bridge had stood, was clearly defined in the lights of the city that spilled across the water.

"What is that?" the boy asked, anger gone in awed fear.

"That..." Rath said, "It can't be. It just can't be."

"Can't be what, Rath?" Nefertina asked.

"Babi."

-==OOO==-

 

"It's not a monkey, Norman, it's a baboon," Virgil corrected automatically, still shivering from the cold water.

"Yeah, but it's BIG," the Viking insisted.

"Indeed."

"So, what's going on here, Virg?" Max asked, turning to his friend in confusion. "Is that what Scarab wanted?"

"I imagine so."

"Doesn't look like it's going too well for him, though," Norman snickered. Virgil and Max both turned their attention back to the hulking figure in the bay, nearly as tall as the bridge had once been. They could see a glint of purple and gold flying near its head, but the creature appeared to be lazily attempting to swat at it as one does a fly.

"Well, I guess that's what you get for summoning big baboons in the middle of the city," Max said flippantly.

"I'll want to check with Rath, but if I'm not mistaken, that's Babi, god of the underworld."

"Virg, I may not be an expert on Egyptian mythology, but I always thought Anubis was god of the underworld. That's what you told me the last time I accidentally raised an Egyptian god. Remember?" Max shook his head.

"And I was not mistaken then. Anubis is the ruler of the underworld. Babi is the Egyptian equivalent of the devil in Judeo-Christian religions, Mighty One. He is the overseer of Hades."

"Hades was Greek," Norman quipped, smirking.

"You know what I mean!" Virgil stamped his clawed foot in annoyance. "Babi is the ruler of the underworld where those souls judged to be unworthy reside for all time, a pit of fire and eternal suffering."

"Oh. Okay, I get that. Ruler of H-E-double-hockey-sticks. So, why's he a baboon?" Max asked.

"Baboons symbolized both a human aspect and a savage one, and Babi was the greatest of them all. He represented the ancestors of the Egyptians, as they believed some people were reborn into baboons rather than going on to the afterlife. However, the vicious and often violent nature of baboon family units came to indicate an inherent bloodlust in all people. Thus, a baboon was rather a logical choice for the Egyptian devil: almost human, but abominably so."

"So what's he doing here?" Norman grunted, drawing his sword.

"I believe we would have to ask Scarab that question."

"Or Skullmaster," Max said, eyes widening. "I wasn't imagining that, was I? He was here?"

"Yes, Mighty One," Norman answered, and his hate for their enemy was clear in his voice.

"Then maybe we can find that crystal thingy Scarab was using to talk to him and ask him," Max suggested.

"Impossible. It would be buried under all that," Virgil said, gesturing towards the remains of the bridge. "Not to mention that Babi is still standing right there, Mighty One."

"Never stopped us before," the boy-hero grinned. Without waiting for a response, Max took off down the shore, running to make up time and to keep warm. Norman joined him after only a heartbeat.

"I don't know why they never consider the danger until it's on top of them," Virgil lamented. Then, sighing, he scuttled into a sprint and tried to catch up to his wayward friends.

-==OOO==-

 

"So you're telling me that Babi is the devil?" Presley said, his voice nearly cracking on the last word.

"Basically, yes," Rath replied.

"Great. Where's Godzilla when you need him?" At the mummies' blank looks, he waved dismissively and continued, "So what does Scarab want with him?"

"I'm not sure, but it appears he isn't going to get it," Ja-Kal interjected, pointing at how Scarab was now being violently attacked by the enormous baboon-god.

"Why is it that Scarab always summons something to help him and they always turn on him?" Nefertina demanded, exasperated. "We always end up having to clean up whatever mess he's made!"

"You'd think he'd get tired of it by now," Armon remarked. Then the purple mummy pointed to something reflecting light from midway across the waters. "Look!"

As they turned, they could see a police helicopter, as well as a couple of coast guard speedboats, heading out towards the giant in the water. Not far behind, several news teams were descending on the scene for the story.

"This is a major disaster," Presley moaned. "Max and the others are missing, there's a giant baboon in the bay, the Golden Gate Bridge is in shambles, Scarab is going to end up on the 6:00 news, and if we do anything about it, so will you!"

"What should we do, my prince?" Ja-Kal asked gently.

"I...I don't know." The reincarnated pharaoh closed his eyes and considered. "Max would know what to do," he thought to himself. But he knew that sort of thinking was useless; the Mighty One was not here to help him figure it out. All things considered, there was only one option he could think of, and he didn't like it one bit. Sighing, he opened his eyes.

"Ja-Kal?"

"Yes?"

"Go rescue Scarab. The rest of us will go get the Skycophagus and meet you over there," he said, pointing to a deserted part of the hills a bit north of the bay.

"I understand," Ja-Kal nodded. "A wise plan, my prince." There was a whoosh of wings and he was gone.

"Why are you rescuing Scarab?" Armon asked.

"Because we cannot afford to let him be caught any more than we ourselves can be seen on the magic box," Rath answered for Presley. "This way, Ja-Kal can aid in ensuring Scarab escapes, we will have the opportunity to question him, and all our secrets remain out of the public eye."

"Oh."

"Come on," Presley said impatiently. "Let's get up there and wait for them. And Rath?" The snake-avatar turned to his prince, whose voice had gone suddenly quiet and vulnerable. "Can we take a quick look from the Skycophagus to see if we can find Max?"

"Of course, my prince."

 

-==OOO==-

 

As Max clambered over some of the fallen pieces of what had once been the Golden Gate Bridge, he started to wonder if this was such a good idea after all. The water here was usually deep, but so much debris had fallen as to make a sort of island chain from one bank all the way to the other, as though the bridge had been reduced to stepping stones. The huge figure of Babi loomed overhead, still shaking water and fire from his coat, bizarrely reminding Max of a cat trying to get its fur just so. Finding a mirror-sized crystal in all this mess was worse than a needle in a haystack; this was more like a needle in a barn full of haystacks.

"Mighty One!" Norman called, leaping. He managed to very narrowly pull his young friend out of the path of flying fire that struck the stones and burned with a dangerous heat. Make that a barn full of flaming haystacks.

"Thanks, big guy," Max breathed. "I was almost blackened hero!"

"I really think we should head back," Virgil warned, joining them.

"I know, but I feel like we need more answers, and maybe I can irritate Skullmaster into giving them up," the boy said.

"You are indeed gifted with the silver tongue of eloquence and persuasion."

"Whatever," Max dismissed Virgil's typical praise for his abilities. "Just look for something glowing. Besides the obvious, I mean."

As the three friends began rooting around the fallen and crushed rocks, periodically dodging blasts of flame or water, Max felt his scalp prickle. His instincts told him that something was happening, but before he could work out what, a glimmer caught his eye.

"Gotcha!"

From beneath a fallen plate of metal, something bright and shining reflected a sickly light. Pulling it out, Max found himself staring straight into Skullmaster's soulless eyes.

"You! I will have my revenge, you infernal Cap-Bearer!" the eternal evil of his world shouted.

"Yeah, yeah, heard it before. Now what's the deal here, Boney? Looking for a new pet? You certainly suit each other!" Max joked, smiling. It was a lot easier to cope with Skullmaster when the hulking menace was in another world. The boy would never admit it, but in spite of all his bravado, in spite of all the times he had thwarted this one hated enemy, Max was still very afraid of him on several levels.

"Not at all," Skullmaster smiled, deadly and calculating. "Merely aiding a kindred spirit take over his world. You know the old story."

"I know you, Skullmaster, and you don't do anything without a reason and a price," Max said, frustration growing. He preferred the angry and yelling version of his nemesis over this knowing and confident version. The latter always meant trouble. Well, more trouble, anyway.

"Indeed."

"You will divulge your plans at once!" Virgil insisted. Perversely, the Lemurian fowl felt he still might retain some measure of influence over his enemy, and often commanded him to do things that were a tad unreasonable.

"You are so amusing, old friend," Skullmaster laughed. "And, as I've said before, I always did out-play you in chess. You are in checkmate now, but you can't even see it. This time, I will be victorious!"

"Not if I can help it!" Max shouted.

"Oh, really? Observe..." Skullmaster said, pointing upwards. He, unlike the three crowded around the flat crystal in Max's hands, could see what happened behind them. Thus, by the time the Mighty One turned around, it was already too late.

 

-==OOO==-

 

Presley stood nervously looking out at the bay from the rendezvous point. They had not seen any sign of Max, Virgil, or Norman while gliding over the water and he was beginning to fear the worst. Ja-Kal appeared to be flying along with Scarab somewhere over Babi's head, but he could not honestly tell if they were working together or fighting.

Suddenly, the great baboon shook himself once more and seemed to wake, as though the past few minutes it had been merely sleepwalking. With a furious roar, the ancient god spat a torrent of fire at the police boats now quite close to him, engulfing them in harsh yellow flames. Another breath and he neatly shot a helicopter out of the sky. Those remaining boats and airborne craft that had avoided his attack quickly reversed course and sped away.

"At least he's ignoring Ja-Kal," Armon said consolingly as he stood by his prince.

"Yeah, but for how long?" Nefertina asked.

"We've got to do something!" Presley vented, frustrated. "We can't just stand here while he hurts innocent people!"

"What do you suggest?" Rath asked, pinning the boy with his eyes.

"I...don't know," he admitted.

"Nor do I. I must get back to the Sphinx and look at my scrolls. There may be something there that will help us."

"My prince, look!" Armon pointed with his golden arm. As the others turned to follow his gaze, they could see by the light of Babi's fires that the baboon had bent over to lift something in his enormous hand. At that very moment, one of the burning boats exploded, lending just enough light to show, not a flash of gold or purple that would have meant Ja-Kal or Scarab, but a tiny spot of red.

"Max!"

 

-==OOO==-

 

All things considered, Max had never liked the movie "King Kong." He always felt the girl being carried around by the giant ape was too helpless and wussy to be believable. But now, having been scooped up unawares by his own giant monkey, he felt like he better understood the girl's position. He was vaguely aware of Norman trying to climb Babi's leg from below, yelling. Somewhere even farther down stood Virgil, probably worrying.

"Don't say 'I told you so' Virg, okay?" Max shouted to him. He knew that the words would comfort his friend, assuring him that the Mighty One was both alive and enough in command of himself to make jokes.

"I'm coming, Mighty One!" Norman roared.

"Who are you to summon me?"

Max turned in surprise to stare at the enormous baboon before him. What he had not known until he was up close and personal with this particular being was the strange way Babi's face was almost half-human, complete with the golden goatee typical of Egyptian art. But the black eyes were sharper than obsidian and the teeth were wicked. This was no friendly deity.

"Um...oh, great Babi," Max began, spreading the one hand that was not pinned by massive fingers, "it is not I who have called you to this place."

"You lie. I smell your soul in my waking," Babi menaced, leaning close.

"Okay, easy there big fella," Max chuckled nervously. "Listen, you might smell me, and I was there, but it wasn't me who brought you. Honest!"

"Only the spirit of a true king could have summoned me forth. You are such a king. Still you deny that you willingly called me from my domain?"

"Only the spirit of...wait a minute!" Max realized, eyes wide. He turned the charm back on. "Oh, great Babi, it was not of my will that you were summoned. A wizard used my spirit without my permission to call you forth. It was not of my doing."

Max held his breath as Babi considered his words. The Mighty One was a very bright kid, and it was not hard to deduce that somehow Scarab had summoned this being in his and Presley's name. That could even explain the pain they suffered when he was casting the spell. He only hoped that Babi was the kind of god who would understand and vent his wrath on the right being, the bug-dude circling above.

"It matters not. I have been invoked, and now my time on earth has begun." The baboon turned his eyes back to Max, weighing the boy in his mind. "You will submit to me and give me your powers, or else you shall die."

"Now, see, I really don't think you want to do that..." Max began, feeling the hand holding him tightening around his small body.

"Surrender or die," Babi insisted.

"Mighty One!" Norman flung himself from where he had clung to the baboon's coarse hairs onto the wrist that held his friend. He attempted to strike with his sword, but was caught up in Babi's other hand.

"A flea. You are of no consequence," Babi said dismissively. He flung his arm out wide and sent Norman flying back into the bay.

"Norman!" Max gasped.

"Now, choose!" Babi commanded the small being in his grip. Max looked around desperately for an answer, his eyes finally snagging a bit of hope.

"Okay, okay, I will. I choose...Ja-Kal!"

At that signal, the falcon-avatar, who had been largely ignored as he fought Scarab high in the air, winged down and sent a flaming arrow into Babi's face. Although the blast did no damage, it distracted the god enough for him to loosen his grip. Max wiggled free and threw himself into the air, knowing Ja-Kal would catch him, which he did, holding the boy around the waist. The mummy swooped low enough for Max to reach out and grab Virgil's hands, and straining, carried them away from the baboon.

"What about Norman?" Virgil asked, clinging tightly to the Mighty One.

"I'll get you to safety and guide him there," Ja-Kal answered.

"Well, better late than never," Max muttered.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ja-Kal demanded. Virgil gave the Mighty One a stern look to be silent.

"It simply means that we are grateful you have pulled us out of a very...hairy situation," Virgil said blandly. Max made a face, but with his back against Ja-Kal's chest, the falcon could not see it.

"Hey, Normie! Look up!" shouted Max, changing the subject just as the silence was becoming awkward. He would have waved but his hands were sort of occupied. Below, Norman was swimming back towards Babi with a determined effort. Hearing Max's voice, he stopped and looked up.

"Mighty One! Are you all right?" The Viking felt like he was asking that a lot lately, which was nothing new, but it bothered him that Max was so often in trouble without him.

"Yep. Nothing a good shower won't fix, anyway," Max muttered, knowing he smelled of baboon stink.

"Follow us," Ja-Kal commanded, flying low and slowly over the water. "The others are up on those hills," and he gestured with his head towards where he could see the outline of the Skycophagus.

"How come I don't get a lift?" Norman grumbled.

"Well, we thought you could use a bath, too!" Max chirped. Norman paused between strokes to glare at his friend who grinned back impishly.

"Watch out!" Virgil shouted as the Cosmic Cap suddenly sprung to life on Max's head. It opened a portal before them, but Ja-Kal's quick dodging managed to prevent them flying straight into it.

"Does that happen a lot?" the falcon asked, half-annoyed and half-amused as he settled back to a comfortable height and pace above Norman.

"Vocational hazard," Max answered.

"So, what are we going to do now?" Virgil asked, worry creeping back into his voice as he tried to get the others to focus on the issue at hand.

"Good question," Norman remarked from below.

"It sounds like Scarab used Pres and I to summon that thing, somehow," Max said thoughtfully. "So maybe he and I can send it back."

"You'd have to ask Rath, but I think that's pretty unlikely. Our experience with other such beings indicates that either they must return from whence they came voluntarily, or be forced back," Ja-Kal put in.

"Hmm. Well, the way Babi is acting, I highly doubt he is going to turn around and leave willingly." Virgil had the most unobstructed view of the risen god. "He appears to be making himself quite at home."

Ja-Kal turned in the air at the ironic sound in Virgil's voice, giving himself and Max line-of-sight to the baboon. The ancient god appeared to be clearing the debris of the bridge from the water, making a sort of sloppy pedestal for himself at the water's edge. He also reached and took whatever building materials he needed, including pieces of existing structures, without regard for people who might be nearby.

"What's he doing?" Norman called.

"I'd say he's preparing to settle down," Max said dejectedly.

"Of course. A god such as Babi would require an enormous temple, if not a pyramid, for his own use," Ja-Kal answered. "It seems that lacking one on site for him, he is building it on his own."

"We've gotta stop him!" the Mighty One said determinedly.

"What do you suggest?"

"I'm not sure yet, Virg, but I'll think of something..."


	9. ...Often Fall Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am forced to admit, still not proud owner of "Mighty Max" or "Mummies Alive!" Sorry. Also don't own the "Ghostbusters" and thus the reference therein. But I couldn't resist borrowing it!
> 
> Oh, and before I forget – here is a blanket apology for the (mis)use of Egyptian mythology. Babi is only the beginning of my delving into the ancient gods and practices. I know and recognize that I am mischaracterizing this religion/theology, and I can only plead creative interpretation and narrative necessity. If I've offended anyone, I really am sorry. However…seriously…look this stuff up. I don't have to try too hard to make things brutal. We're only getting hints now, but it will get worse, and I wanted that apology out there ahead of time.
> 
> Back to the destruction!

"Mighty One!" Rath breathed a sigh of relief as Ja-Kal led the others up the hill after what felt like forever of waiting and watching in impatient worry.

"Max, are you guys okay?" Presley asked, concerned. He felt ashamed suddenly, not only of his own absence at the pinnacle of danger, but of the complete and total failure of his mummies to help. Max grinned widely.

"Sure! Worse things have collapsed on us than bridges!" the Mighty One smiled. True, all three of them were still wet, chilled to the bone, had fallen from a pretty high height, Norman had been flung by a baboon, and Max smelled like a zoo, but all things considered, it had gone pretty well. And, though Max was the first to complain, he was also usually the first to cheer up in adversity.

"How did you escape?" Armon asked, drawing near.

"Well, we improvised," Max shrugged. "Couldn't have done it without Norman!" As the mummies pressed for details, Virgil and the Cap-Bearer alternately explained how they had jumped, swum to shore, dealt with Babi, and escaped. Norman grunted at appropriate intervals.

"So now what are we going to do?" Nefertina asked at the end of the explanation.

"It seems to me that we must find a way of sending Babi back beyond the Western Gate before he can do too much damage," Rath said.

"Wait. Will the Western Gate work now that the bridge is gone?" Presley asked.

"Yes, my prince. It is not a physical construct and is not bound by the bridge. In point of fact, the Western Gate was there first," Ja-Kal said calmly.

"Well, if Scarab called Babi using us," Max began, "can't we send him back the same way?"

"I am not sure," Virgil said, scratching in the dirt. "I do not believe it will be that easy. We need more information before we attempt anything."

"Hey! What happened to Scarab?" the boy-prince suddenly remembered.

"I...don't know," the falcon admitted. "When I saw the Mighty One in trouble, I forgot all about him. I should never have let him out of my sight."

Everyone turned as one to where the Golden Gate Bridge had stood, searching for something purple and airborne. But Scarab, the one source of information who might have helped them, was gone.

-==OOO==-

 

"That spell should have worked!" the ancient vizier raged.

"Maybe that rain of Rath's is what threw it off," Heka suggested from where she clung to her master's arm.

"Very likely," agreed Skullmaster from the crystal. The moment Babi had grabbed the Cap-Bearer and the so-called heroes were fully distracted, Scarab took the opportunity to dive to where the boy had dropped the prism and retrieved it before rushing away.

"You said Babi would be mine to control! You said I'd be able to use him to force the pharaoh to relinquish his soul to me!"

"Indeed. And you failed to make the potion correctly. That you managed to raise an untamed and unmanageable god is not my doing," Skullmaster said, voice dangerously venomous.

"So now what do we do?" Heka asked.

"I can't control Babi now, thanks to that meddling mummy. And he's going to destroy the city, not to mention the world..."

"Quiet!" Skullmaster commanded. "This can still be useful to us. You must allow Babi to follow the written prophecy. As soon as he does that, all will be in place." The crystal winked out abruptly; Skullmaster had cut the connection.

"Scarab, I'm not sure we should trust him anymore..." Heka said uncertainly.

"I'm starting to wonder about it myself. But he made a good point. There's little we can do right now; we need to return to the pyramid and see what we can see. There may yet be a way to use this to my advantage. But I wonder what prophecy he was talking about…"

-==OOO==-

 

"Your snake-friend is wise, oh ancient one," Skullmaster mocked. "And you are a fool not to know that I may command this magic however I wish, including such that you cannot see or hear me though your words still cross to my ears. Thankfully my own abilities far exceed yours. You are unworthy of the small power you have been granted, and as I have foreseen, would turn against me to save yourself. I will not have competition for this universe from the likes of you."

He rose from his throne and paced, a devious smile tugging at his colorless face.

"You have all fallen right into my trap. With the rising of Babi, there will be no help for any of them. The accursed Mighty One will fall, and you, my would-be rival, will lose that which you have always sought. I alone shall be victorious!"

Skullmaster's laughter, rich and satisfied, shook Skull Mountain to its bones with its maniacal glee.

 

-==OOO==-

 

"Great. The one time we want Scarab he's already run off. Coward," Armon spat.

"Never mind that now. We've got to do something. Look!" Max said, turning his attention back to Babi. The enormous figure, apparently dissatisfied with his efforts at making a nest for himself, was throwing a massive-sized tantrum. Raging, he smashed his massive arms against anything in the vicinity, including buildings, power lines, and harbor equipment.

"Violent, as I said," Virgil noted.

"Babi is said to eat the entrails of his victims, and his lust for blood is unquenchable," Rath recited quietly.

"Seriously? Yikes!" Presley exclaimed.

"Reminds me of Lockyar," Norman said quietly. At a questioning look from the mummies, he continued, "the spirit of violence. He...was a very dangerous enemy."

"Hey, you did your best, Normie," Max said encouragingly. The Viking grunted.

"In the end, we could not destroy him, as it is impossible to destroy a spirit. Instead, the Mighty One contrived to trap him under a mountain."

"Could we do something like that? Trap him?" Nefertina asked, seizing on the option.

"I don't know! Ask me when I have my scrolls in front of me," Rath said testily.

"I agree. We must return to the Sphinx for more information."

"There's no time for that, Ja-Kal!" the Cap-Bearer objected, earning him a startled glare from the mummies' leader. "He's going to hurt someone."

"The wise hunter does not attack without sharpened arrows," the falcon said sagely.

"Fine! Go do research. But I'm not standing around letting some monster take out a city and a lot of innocent people without at least trying to stop it!" Max shouted. Turning on his heel, he began to move down the hill and back towards the docks. After sharing an unreadable look, Virgil and Norman followed.

"Wait! How will you do anything against something so big?" Presley called, half running after the determined boy.

"I'll think of something. I always do," Max called over his shoulder.

"He can't! It's suicide!" Nefertina watched the determined three from another dimension with a mix of concerned horror and a little envious pride. "What can they do against something like that?"

"The true warrior does not fight a battle he cannot win," Armon said. "But then, the warrior does not leave the helpless unprotected, either. So I guess the rules of honor go either way."

"We're not leaving anybody," Ja-Kal said flatly. "We're making the responsible decision instead of rushing in and getting ourselves hurt. Besides, we need to recharge before we reengage in any battles."

"But he does have a point," Rath argued. "Of anyone in the city, we have the best chance of doing something right now to stop him, and to fail to act is almost as bad as having brought it here in the first place. Though I still think we need to know a great deal more before we can have any meaningful impact."

The four mummies began to argue amongst themselves, bickering about who was right and what their priorities needed to be. But a sound from in front of them got everyone's attention.

Presley stood facing his guardians, hands clenched at his sides. His head was down at first, but when he finally looked up, the mummies were surprised to see tears standing in his eyes. The boy's face, so often cool and composed, was torn with frustrated emotion.

"I can't believe you four! I thought my guardians were heroes. Now I know what real heroes are like," and he pointed at the rapidly retreating figures that were racing towards their quarry, "and they put us all to shame. But I've learned something from the Mighty One."

"And what is that, my prince?" Ja-Kal said quietly, taken aback by the respect behind Max's spoken title in his boy's voice.

"Even if we can't do anything, we have to do something. Heroes can't always win, but they always have to try. That's what makes them heroes. And if you won't try, at least I will."

"No, my prince!" Nefertina exclaimed, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It's much too dangerous for you."

"It's too dangerous for him, too!" Presley shouted. "But they let him help because they know he can! And maybe I can't," and he turned away and looked at his feet, "but I'll never know unless I try."

"Your destiny is different than the Mighty One's, my prince," Rath said gently. "It gives you different skills. Perhaps this is not your battle to fight."

"Then what is my battle?" he demanded.

"Well...er..." Armon began, "you handled those school bullies pretty well. And you have done a lot against the Shabties."

"My prince," Ja-Kal interrupted, cutting of a stream of retorts he could see building in his young friend, "you must put your trust in us. We have only your best interest at heart."

"And that's the problem." Presley gave an ironic laugh. "Sometimes, guys, it isn't about my best interests. Sometimes it's about what is right."

-==OOO==-

 

"You do realize, of course, that there really is a limit to what we can do against something so big and powerful," Virgil panted as the three hurried towards the water's edge.

"I know, Virg, but we can't not try!"

"I agree," Norman nodded. He pointed to an unmanned speedboat at the nearest pier. With luck, which clung to the Mighty One like a starfish to the ocean's floor, the keys would be in it.

"Do you have a plan?" Virgil pressed, following Max to the boat and climbing in awkwardly.

"Not really. But I'm starting to," the boy responded, eyes alight as he turned the fortunately-present key and started the engine. The boat sloshed in the water as Norman added his great weight to it. The Mighty One, generally trusted by his friends to maneuver any craft, easily gunned the speedboat and shot across the deserted bay towards the summoned deity.

"So, what are you thinking?" the Guardian asked.

"Well, you said Babi's an Egyptian god, right?"

"Correct," Virgil squawked, holding onto the seat as Max made an abrupt turn.

"Then he's a lot bigger than a car."

As Norman and Virgil exchanged looks that spoke volumes, Max pulled the boat to an abrupt stop right near where Babi was pummeling a warehouse into dust.

"Hey, you! Hairy Stay-Puft guy!"

"Are you referring to me, little insect?" the baboon demanded, rounding on the Mighty One.

"Well, sure. Nobody else here smells like a herd of elephants."

"You will pay for these insults!" Babi roared.

"Gotta catch me first!" Max taunted, pushing the boat into gear and heading back into the bay. Unleashing a scream of offended rage, the enormous god followed, first running through the shallows, then finally swimming as the boat headed out towards deeper waters.

"Now if we can just get him close enough...uh, oh!" Max cut off as the boat's engine made a horrible noise. Looking back, the three heroes saw the motor smoking, and beyond it, a very satisfied baboon.

"Do not underestimate me, my little enemy," Babi taunted, easily casting another ball of flame into the water beside the craft, rocking the boat against the waves.

"Okay, now I'm out of ideas," Max said, instinctively backing up until the dashboard bumped the small of his back. The enormous baboon leered over them.

"Prepare to die in flames!"

"Now!" a familiar boy's voice echoed from above. Max, Norman, and Virgil all looked up to see a very welcome sight.

"And the cavalry has arrived!" the Mighty One crowed as the golden Skycophagus winked in the darkness and began circling Babi's head, causing him to pause and lunge at them instead. Ja-Kal, Presley in his arms, touched down on the boat beside them.

"Sorry we're late," Presley said, a touch of embarrassment in his voice. He extended an arm in a shy gesture of camaraderie and friendship.

"Hey, we'll take it!" Max replied, grasping the extended hand gratefully.

"So what is your plan?" Ja-Kal pressed. "They cannot distract him for long."

"Okay, we know there's a portal just a little further that way. So I figure we lure him into it. He's too big to go through it safely since I won't help keep it open, so it'll collapse on him. Problem solved!"

"But...won't the portal be too small?" Norman asked.

"Not if the Mighty One exerts his will upon it. An excellent plan," Virgil said, eyes shining with pride.

"Can I help?" Presley asked.

"Lend him your energy," Ja-Kal suggested. "You know how to transfer it to us. The principle is the same."

"Yeah, that way I won't get wiped out! Great idea!" Max grinned.

"So let's do it," Norman said decisively. "They appear to be losing their advantage."

"Indeed," Ja-Kal agreed, seeing how Babi was now coming dangerously close to catching the Skycophagus in his enormous fingers. Taking to the sky, he hovered in the air at the back of the boat. Then, with a mighty effort, the falcon-avatar began to push the craft through the waves to a point just a few yards ahead.

"Hey! Tall, dark, and really ugly!" Presley yelled. "Come get us!"

"You will suffer for this interference," Babi snarled, swatting at the mummies' plane before resuming his pursuit of the boat.

"A little farther, keep going...Stop here, Ja-Kal," Virgil commanded as they pulled up a yard or so behind the portal's location. The Cosmic Cap was already reacting.

"Okay, here goes nothing," the Mighty One said, absently putting one hand on his Cap and closing his eyes as the portal burst into life. Presley, holding his amulet tightly, closed his eyes as well and laid a hand on Max's shoulder.

"No magical barrier can prevent me from reaching you!" Babi roared, quickening his pace to where they floated idly in the water.

"He thinks the portal is a barrier," Norman snickered. Virgil shushed him, turning back to the boys.

Max's face contorted in intense concentration. Given that it was mere hours since he had previously engaged in trying to manipulate the universe, not to mention that the Mighty One had never before attempted to adjust the size of a portal with his mind, the fowl was not surprised that his young ward was struggling. Then Presley's face hardened in determination and his amulet began to glow. As the glow brightened, the strain on Max's energy lessened and he was better able to focus. Slowly, the portal began to expand in the air.

"What is this magic? It cannot prevent your deaths!" came Babi's ringing challenge. The great baboon drew near the spinning wheel of light cautiously, though, spitting an experimental burst of flame at it. When the fire appeared to vanish into the swirling vortex, he howled in defiance.

"Come on, come get us!" Norman shouted, his rough voice cutting through Babi's noise like a blade.

Virgil turned back to look at the boys. Both were pale, and the Mighty One was trembling like a leaf in a storm, but the Cap was glowing joyously, its normal red glow made a reddish-golden somehow. It appeared to be working.

"Watch me crush your barrier before you die in my hands and your bodies become my first sacrifice!"

Babi beat his chest, lifting himself largely out of the water to strike. But his face contorted from savage victory to horror as he launched himself at the portal and found himself falling. Echoing away into the space between worlds, he screamed with a primal sound that could only promise hatred and revenge. A heartbeat later, the portal snapped shut on the air, and all fell quiet.

"What a rush," Presley commented, opening his eyes. He gripped Max's shoulder tightly, holding the boy upright. But after a few seconds he thought better of it and they both slumped to the floor of the little boat.

"My prince! Are you all right?" Ja-Kal demanded, suddenly at Presley's side.

"Yeah, just kinda tired."

"What about you, Mighty Max?" Virgil asked gently, concerned at how quiet his ward had been. Max opened his blue eyes and smiled wearily.

"I think I need a vacation."


	10. Forward Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own this stuff. Wish I did. Sad. I can claim partial ownership for Babi and Ma'at, but that's about it. Mighty Max, Mummies Alive, Star Trek…nope. Just borrowing. Couldn't resist the HHGTTG reference in this chapter, but I don't own HHGTTG either!
> 
> Get ready for the beginning of the middle on the way to the end…

The next morning, Max and Presley were their usual, rambunctious selves after a night of real sleep. It had been a near thing, but Presley had calmed his mother down with a phone call, claiming he was stranded by the falling of the bridge but that he was perfectly safe and would come home "when he could," before returning to the museum's pyramid with the mummies. The others had taken the opportunity of a night to recharge, all but Rath, who had wanted very little rest for himself, instead pouring over his scrolls. Virgil remained awake as well, deep in the study of any ancient texts Rath permitted him to see, the snake being very protective of his ancient knowledge. While the morning broke into a day that seemed bright and the sun was warm, everyone knew without being told that this fight was not over yet, and it cast a pall over them.

"What we did last night won't hold him forever," Max said glumly. "There's no way he could come out the other side, but once that portal collapses, chances are pretty good that Babi'll find a way back."

"He's sure powerful enough for it," Armon remarked.

"And with Scarab behind the summoning, he is probably linked to this world," Ja-Kal nodded.

"So what will we do?" Nefertina sat twitching on the couch, hating the enforced idleness.

"That's what they're trying to figure out," Norman pointed over his shoulder where the two scholars furiously read through every parchment they could.

"By my calculations, Babi will return around midnight tonight through the Western Gate," Virgil put in without even looking up from the scroll before his eyes.

"How do you know that?" Presley asked him.

"He's Virgil. He knows," Norman smiled, his voice reverent as when he spoke of Max's gift of knowing things.

"So we don't have much time then..." Ja-Kal said pointedly towards his scholarly teammate.

"Oh, forget this!" Rath exclaimed, standing up. He marched purposely over to the prophetic pyramid on his worktable. Spreading his hands, he commanded, "Sands of the past, reveal your secrets. Where can we find the information we seek?"

The pyramid whirled in place, its pieces resetting themselves like a Rubik's cube. When it stilled, several shapes glowed for a moment before reverting back to largely-unremarkable stone.

"Scroll 42?" read Virgil, doubtfully.

"Of course!" Max shouted, laughing. "Because the answer is always 42!"

While the two boys lost themselves in much-needed laughter, Rath shrugged and sorted through his piles of scrolls until he found the one he wanted. It was cracked with age and dusty, as though it had never been read before. Uncurling it slowly, Rath and Virgil peered into the ancient lore.

"So? What does it say?" Nefertina's impatience hung in the air.

"Oh, my," muttered Virgil.

"It says," Rath said hastily before someone strangled him for making them wait, "that a prophecy was laid down in ancient times. It states that Babi would be called forth to rule in a land with a hidden king, and that destruction and death would overshadow the whole earth forever more."

"That doesn't sound good," Norman grunted.

"Indeed. But it goes on to say that should two kings instead of one call him forth, and should a drop of truth pollute the summoning, then there is a hope for returning the world to peace."

"Two kings. Us," Presley nodded. "No wonder you needed to be here." The boy-prince grinned at Max who shrugged.

"But the drop of truth?" asked Ja-Kal.

"My spell. When I was trying to stop whatever Scarab was doing to our prince and the Mighty One. My healing rain fell in Scarab's cauldron, remember?" Rath said.

"Way to go Rath!" shouted Armon, clapping his skinny friend on the back so hard he caused Rath to stumble.

"Anyway," Virgil picked up the tale, "when those two conditions are met, according to this, it invokes the right to summon Ma'at to our aid."

"Ma'at? Really?" Nefertina said, visibly awed at Virgil's affirmative nod.

"Who is...?"

"Ma'at is the goddess of justice and law," Rath explained before Max could finish his question. "She is the judge of souls, the one who decides if a spirit is to be sent to Babi or onto eternity with Osiris beyond the Western Gate. She is also the goddess of morality and truth, the final authority over all who rule, and to whom all pharaohs are beloved."

"Sounds like a useful lady," Norman remarked.

"Indeed. Her worship was a central part of royal life under Rapses' father," Ja-Kal said fondly. "Amenhotep was very loyal to her."

"So, all we have to do is summon her and she'll kick Babi's...baboon butt?" Max asked impishly.

"It's not that simple, Mighty One," Virgil said. "To summon Babi took only a soul of darkness and greed and a source of great hatred and violence, which, between Scarab and Skullmaster, they had admirably covered. But to summon Ma'at, we must prove ourselves worthy to her."

"And how do we do that?"

"First we must locate the doorway that is now open to her realm," Rath answered Armon. "Then the scroll speaks of challenges we will have to pass in order to be deemed worthy."

"And then she'll rise and take him out?" Presley pressed.

"I believe so, young prince," Virgil smiled. The relief, along with the boyish enthusiasm in his voice reminded the Lemurian of another, similarly-spirited boy he knew quite well.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Max said, jumping to his feet and proving Virgil correct about their similarities. "Let's get going!"

"But where? Don't we have to know where to start?" Nefertina asked.

"Well, if I know a certain ten-thousand year-old chicken like I think I do, he already knows where!"

"I'm a fowl, actually," Virgil said nonplussed. "And you are correct. I do."

"Where?"

"I'm surprised you haven't guessed," Virgil said, smugly turning to the falcon whose eyebrows were knit in confusion. "Egypt is where we begin, of course."

-==OOO==-

 

As Presley trudged along between his guardians through the deserted forest, his mind was wildly active. The group had, with Virgil's help, plotted a course of portals that would carry them to the precise location where the scholars conjectured they would begin the trials to raise Ma'at. After the fourth such portal, having dropped in on a city in China, a very cold stretch of northern Russia, and now a forest in Manitoba, Presley's thoughts had wandered back to the recent altercations with his friends.

"Are you well, my prince?" Nefertina asked him, her voice light, but an undertone of concern was clear.

"Sure," he replied as nonchalantly as he could. But inside his thoughts, he was anything but well.

"What am I going to do about them?" the boy-prince wondered over and over. "They're so...single-minded. Especially Ja-Kal. I mean, I understand that their whole lives...er...deaths...whatever, are all about protecting me, but sometimes they have to think beyond the immediate. I mean, how can they protect me if they don't help take out Babi before he destroys the world? Or how does letting someone else down help me at all? But it's like there's only black and white: me safe and me not safe. Nothing else computes. Nothing else even exists."

Presley shook his hair out of his eyes, noticing again how different things were for his new friends. Max walked at the head of their procession, flanked by Virgil and Norman, chatting away as though this journey were as routine as going to the store for some milk. The four mummies, by contrast, had formed an honor guard around him, marching silently and vigilantly, as though they expected to run into a war-zone at any moment. He was sure they would have broken formation and let him walk in a less-stately manner if he wanted to talk to Max or something, but the fact that they settled into this pattern so easily illustrated the point exactly.

Worse, things had been incredibly awkward between everyone since the fight on the hill over how to handle Babi. True, Presley had eventually bullied his guardians until they agreed to engage in battle, but it felt so wrong that he had to order them around in the name of the pharaoh's spirit before they would choose to do the right thing. And while on the surface all seemed to have been forgotten, there was a tense undercurrent in the mummies' interactions, not only with Presley, but with each other, and especially with Max, Norman, and Virgil. Presley felt that his guardians blamed the heroes from another world for their prince's discomfort with how things had always been, and that was not fair. Max had opened his eyes, and Presley knew all too well that "because it's always been that way" was not a good enough justification for anything.

"That's it. Hold it," Presley found his voice saying. Without really intending to do it, he decided that the here and now was as good a time as any to hash things out.

"What's up?" Max asked, turning. Blue eyes met green and Max nodded silently, understanding. "Come on. Let's go sit under that tree and I'll try to explain how the DVD player works again," he said, subtly pulling his friends out of earshot. As far as the Mighty One was concerned, this conversation was long overdue.

"Is something amiss, my prince?" Rath asked, as the four mummies moved to face their young friend.

"Yes it is." Presley's voice was suddenly hard as a flood of pent-up feelings and frustrations worked its way loose. "We have got to talk about this."

"About what?" Armon asked, the great ram a little nervous. Even dense as he normally was, the purple guardian had a good idea of what was coming.

"About how you treat me and how you do things! We're going to set a couple of ground rules, guys," Presley tried to hold in his emotions, but he could tell they were slipping through. "One. Just because I am safe does not mean you get to bail. If other people are in danger, you have to help them."

"But..."

"I'll tell you when I'm done!" Presley snapped, ignoring the interruption. "Two. Sometimes I'm going to be in danger but we're going to go ahead with whatever we need to do because it's the right thing to do. Deal with it. Three. I am not made of glass. If you ever want me to be anything at all, you have got to let me take some risks."

"But you could get hurt!" Ja-Kal interjected.

"I don't care! I'm never going to learn how not to get hurt unless I screw up a couple of times on my own!"

"But even one time could be too often," Ja-Kal replied, voice suddenly cold.

"Ja-Kal..." Nefertina warned.

"No, the prince has had his time, and I will speak freely," he cut her off. Holding the boy's eyes with his own, he said harshly, "We are not going to let you put yourself at risk for any reason, Prince Rapses. Granted, we should not overlook our responsibility to others and concern ourselves solely with you to the degree that we have, but your third condition is impossible. We learned the hard way that a risk is not worth the price."

"Look," Presley breathed, something between guilt and fury building inside, "we need to get something straight here, Ja-Kal. I may be the reincarnated Rapses, but it wasn't me that got everybody killed, okay? You can't blame me for what happened, so stop doing it!"

"We don't blame you," put in Armon, voice soft.

"We know it wasn't your fault," added Rath, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. Nefertina nodded, eyes watery at the stricken look on his face.

"Then why do you treat me like I'm the one who screwed up? Do you know how hard it is to be held responsible for all your deaths?"

"You are not responsible for what happened to us." Ja-Kal's voice was quiet, flat, and he was holding his face as though it were stone. "I am responsible, not you, Presley."

"No, you're not! It was Scarab!" shouted Nefertina.

"I am our leader," Ja-Kal said, turning to the other mummies. "The blame lies with me and no one else. Everything has been my fault." He dropped to one knee, putting himself at eye-level with Presley.

"It wasn't your fault," the boy said staunchly.

"It was. And we are all paying the price for it, even you. It's true we don't let you risk yourself. It's true we do not want you in danger, even if it means you would prove your strength in battle. You're not wrong about any of it. But I believe what you have missed is why we act this way." The falcon appeared to be almost pleading with his friend to understand.

"Tell me why."

"Because we cannot lose you again. You are our duty, our one purpose on earth, Presley. The soul that resides within you is worth more than all four of us put together. We must protect it at all costs, even if it hurts you, or us, sometimes. But it isn't just that we do this because we have to, because of oaths taken before the pharaoh eons ago." His voice became even softer and his eyes glittered.

"Then why?" Presley asked, pushing for an answer yet fearing it all the same.

"You have never really known what it was like for us to fail you. We never have. And we never will. Because the anguish of that moment, of knowing Rapses had died, of losing him, is not something we could bear again. We cannot let you get hurt, Presley. Your death killed us once, not our bodies, but our spirits. If we fail and you...and it happens again, I do not believe our souls would survive the loss a second time."

"Ja-Kal..." Presley hesitated at the suffering on the face of his mentor.

"He's right, you know." Nefertina reached out and hesitantly put her hand on Presley's other shoulder. "We protect you because we can't watch you get hurt again. Just like you can't watch something like Babi hurt other people."

"It isn't that we don't feel that we need to protect the world from something like that," Armon agreed gently, "but that we'd rather see you safe and let Babi have his fun than put you at risk for the sake of anybody else."

"But I...I can't matter that much! The world is a lot more important that I am!" Presley argued.

"So we thought, once," Rath answered sadly. "Now we know that the world will shatter around us if we let you get hurt. That doesn't mean we shouldn't help when we can, but if we have to choose between anybody else and you, our choice is made."

"But...but it's wrong!" Presley argued.

"In a way, yes, it is," Ja-Kal nodded. "And it is rather selfish of us to set you so high on a pedestal. But the den mother cares only for her pups and will leave her mate in the hunter's trap." A shadow flickered across the falcon's face and a deep pain resonated in his eyes, but he continued, "There may be a better balance than what we have yet found, but I think we would rather err on your side all the same."

-==OOO==-

 

"What do you think?" Norman asked Max, watching the others. Although they were out of earshot, body language spoke louder than even Presley's shouting.

"I don't think they've really talked like this before," Max said softly. "And they need to."

"Well, I believe this is long overdue," Virgil said primly. "To ignore the fate of the world like that, even for the prince, is unconscionable."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Norman said gravely. "I would."

"You would not," Virgil dismissed him. "You would abide by the prophecy and the needs of the world."

"If it were the Mighty One? No, Virgil, I would protect him. And so would you. You've even done it before."

"Well... That is, I... Oh, all right, I suppose you may have a point, but nonetheless, admirable as your feelings are, that is no excuse to endanger the lives of countless millions for the sake of only one person." Virgil sputtered and crossed his arms, glaring.

"Have you guys ever heard of a guy named Spock?" Max piped up suddenly. At their blank looks he continued, "Dude from the original Star Trek. They had this argument in one of the movies, you know. 'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one,' is what he said when he sacrificed himself to save everyone. But in the next movie, his friends believed that the needs of the one, Spock, outweighed their needs, and they saved him. And by saving him, they saved the world, too."

"I never would have figured you for a Trekkie," Norman said slyly.

"I'm not a Trekkie! But everybody's seen those movies at some point when they were on TV late at night and couldn't sleep..." Max protested, turning slightly red.

"I believe your point is well taken, however," Virgil sighed thoughtfully. "In theory, the fate of the world is far more important. But when dealing with someone one cares for deeply, those priorities can become skewed in favor of the preferential leanings of the heart. And perhaps, as in your example, the dichotomy of one against the other can actually be resolved as acting in everyone's best interest overall even if sequentially one should have preceded the other."

"What?"

"He says you're probably right," Norman translated.

"I have got to learn to speak Lemurian," Max sighed.

 

-==OOO==-

 

Presley looked at his feet awkwardly. This conversation had taken a turn off the highway and now seemed to be on some unknown road, one he had not anticipated. Deep down, he was touched by the concern and blatant care from his friends, but a part of him still burned. He looked for a way to tell them how he felt, and a flash of inspiration struck.

"Ja-Kal, the eagle throws her chicks out of the nest so they can learn to fly. If they fall, she will catch them until they learn, but she knows they cannot learn to fly while sitting beside her safe in the nest. They have to fall to fly. So do I."

In the silence that followed, Presley had the horrible sinking fear that he had finally gone too far, that he had driven something between himself and his friends, especially Ja-Kal, something that would divide them. He wanted to shout that he took it all back, that he was sorry, but he kept still. Sometimes doing the right thing hurt, he knew that, and he could not back down now having come so far.

"He's right, Ja-Kal," Nefertina finally broke the silence. "Rapses never did learn to fly, but if we try and give him a chance, maybe we can teach Presley. And the more he can do for himself, the safer he will be in case anything ever does prevent us from catching him."

"I...I will consider it," Ja-Kal said softly, standing up again. The falcon turned away, eyes pointedly avoiding contact from anyone. He moved quietly away.

"Thanks, Nefertina," Presley whispered.

"Hey, you've always been there for me when I wanted to break tradition. It's the least I can do," she smiled wanly.

"We will have to wait for Ja-Kal's decision, you know," Armon pointed out. "He is still our leader."

"Yeah, I know," the boy answered. "But I feel better knowing you know how I feel."

"In the meantime, I believe we should consider taking greater care to involve ourselves in threats to the city or the world at large, and not only for your sake," Rath said.

"Good," Presley said shyly.

"And my prince? Before you get any more bright ideas from the Mighty One, why don't you talk to us before it becomes an issue?" Nefertina asked, a small smile softening the chastisement. "We'd much rather talk to you in the quiet than fight with you while there's danger around."

Presley nodded. Things weren't right yet, but at least now there was a hope that they could be better.

 

-==OOO==-

 

Ja-Kal could no longer look at his young prince, so instead he moved away, only half-listening to the others behind him. Nothing he had said was a lie, not exactly. Certainly he had been more honest about his feelings towards the boy than ever before. But there were plenty of things he hadn't said, and if he met Presley's honest green eyes much longer, those hidden truths would have found a way out. As the group began to hesitantly resume their hike through the woods to the next portal, Ja-Kal found himself marching several yards in front of his team and prince, a margin he would not normally allow. This time, however, the distance was not great enough. He wanted space to think, to sort out the conflicting emotions and responsibilities Presley's words had loosed inside.

"Everything that happened was my fault. I failed them all: my fellow guardians, Tia and Padjet, Prince Rapses, and the pharaoh. No matter what, I cannot fail again. But what if my reluctance to help Presley fly, as he put it, causes me to fail again after all? Or, what if I trust him, teach him to fly, only to let him down and have history repeat itself? Is it worth it to risk stunting the boy's development to ensure he grows to reach manhood?" he thought worriedly.

He felt torn again, between his desire to be what Presley needed, not just a guardian but a friend and father, and to be what the law dictated, a protector and teacher, nothing more. Added to this remained forever the burden that he had had a son and lost him. Not only did Ja-Kal feel unworthy to be trusted as a father-figure again, but he feared it. If he had failed his own flesh and blood, what could he do to the boy who so depended on him now? The crawling guilt and insecurity from three and a half millennia past made it so easy to go back to the formalized, traditional norms of guardianship. It was a lot less intimidating, and a lot easier, to follow protocol and ignore the clamor of his heart. But the heart has a way of making itself heard, and the falcon could not quite drown out its words.

"And what about me? What about what I want?" What do I want?" It was a complicated question, but several answers were clear.

"I want to protect my prince, and never to let him come to harm again."

"I want to restore my lost honor, and that of Nefertina, Rath, and Armon."

"I want to be with Tia and Padjet again."

"I want to be as a father to Presley."

But Ja-Kal's stubborn nature refused to let him accept that all his desires could be met. The first two were easy: all he had to do was remain loyal to his duty as per the ancient tradition of Egypt and honor would follow. The third, the most painful, he could not achieve for himself. The secret hope of Ja-Kal's heart was that he would ascend to the eternity beyond the Western Gate when Presley's life eventually ended, where he would at last have the rest with his family he so longed for. In the meantime, he continued to torture himself over their loss. And the fourth...

"No. I can't. If I let myself come any closer to him than I already have, I will lose sight of my duty and I will fail again. I am the prince's guardian and teacher, no more. I cannot be anything else. My loyalty to him is infallible, and my heart must be a stone. That is a line I dare not cross. It is better for both of us this way."

But Ja-Kal never really considered whether burying his feelings for his young friend was an act of loyalty and courage, or of cowardice.

-==OOO==-

 

Tumbling from the portal, Max looked up to see, not a dry and sandy desert as he had expected, but rugged, rocky mountains, barren of life. As he started to his feet, he felt a sudden tug on the back of his shirt that pulled him right off the ground.

"Watch out, Mighty One," Norman said solidly as he set the boy on his feet. Gesturing to the spot where Max had been kneeling only a heartbeat before, neither Guardian nor Cap-Bearer could resist a smile.

"Get off of me, you overgrown oaf!" Rath shouted from somewhere in the middle of a pile of mummies. Armon, sprawled on top, smiled sheepishly.

"Hey, I'm under here, too!" Presley groaned, half-trapped under Ja-Kal.

"Serves you right for not watching where you were going," Nefertina admonished her fellow guardians as she yanked Armon off the others. She alone, largely due to her incredible agility, had remained out from underneath Armon's bulk.

"I don't believe I'll ever get used to that," Ja-Kal sighed, righting himself and pulling Presley to his feet.

"You will. It becomes easier with time," Virgil said mildly. He and Norman had both landed neatly upright. Overall, Max made a graceful exit about half the time, and that was an improvement.

"So, are we here?" the Mighty One asked, looking around. Having spent only a few moments in the dry heat, he could already feel himself getting uncomfortably warm. Even half a day ahead of San Francisco, the setting sun still burned through the sky.

"Indeed," Virgil said. "Those are the mountains of eastern Egypt, almost equidistant between the Nile River and the Red Sea itself."

"Uh, guys?" Presley asked, looking at his four friends.

The mummies were facing west, instinctively orienting themselves in their native land. Although the only sights from here were more hills that eventually gave way to empty desert, it was as though they could feel the presence of their homeland. As the boy-prince moved to stand with them, he felt a tug in his own heart. This, then, was the land of his soul. Even though he knew that it was the Nile's river valley that was truly what they would have called "home," the power of returning to a familiar part of the world still held them all spellbound for a moment.

Then Presley's heart gave an unexpected leap, as though suddenly remembering the pain of its early end on these sands, and he didn't want to look anymore. Turning instead to his friends, he put a hand on Ja-Kal's arm.

"It...has been a very long time, my prince," the falcon said, shaking himself out of his reverie. "Come. We cannot dwell in the past." His voice was its customary commanding tone, but there was a strain of longing beneath it. This was the land of his family.

"We must head south from here," Rath began, closing his heart to his own memories. "The doorway will be just a short hike this way."

"How short?" Max asked. He knew from long experience that measuring distance was relative. To him, short could be measured in city blocks; to Norman, short meant he could get there in one day of hard marching.

No one answered the question, but to both boys' relief, Presley not being at all accustomed to wandering around random parts of the world like this, after reaching the pinnacle of a rise, they could see their destination. Beyond the next rocky hill was what appeared at a distance to be some kind of natural stone formation. That is, it would have appeared to be natural if it weren't glowing.

As the heroes made their careful way towards their obvious goal, Max began to get one of those bad feelings again. It felt to the Cap-Bearer like pressure was increasing all around them, the way it does in an airplane as it slowly ascends into the sky. Something was building, something big. Something important. A glance at Norman, Rath, and Ja-Kal told him that the seasoned warriors, and the sorcerer, were also aware of it.

"Be careful, Mighty One," Virgil warned as they finally approached the site. A stone arch, not quite symmetrical but obviously very deliberately built, stood alone at the top of the rise. It glowed with a soft bluish-white that pulsed with a rhythm all its own. To the front and right of the doorway, since that was clearly what it was, stood a small pedestal with something written on the slanted top. The whole thing reminded Presley of a podium turned to look at a screen for a presentation. Through the arch, the continuing landscape was clearly visible.

"What's this say?" Max asked as he stepped close to the outcropping pedestal. It was too tall for Virgil's short stature, so Rath moved to read it.

> _"Beyond is the doorway of Ma'at._   
> _Enter only you born worthy of kings,_   
> _But leave the world with no hope of return._
> 
> _I wake only for the just,_   
> _And my hand will bring you home_   
> _If I deem you righteous and deserving of favor._
> 
> _But be warned all who dare my power,_   
> _For your trials within will be great,_   
> _And to prove yourself unworthy is to end in flame."_

"Which means...?" Armon asked.

"Basically, if we go in there, we cannot turn back. The only way we'll get out again will be if Ma'at lets us go. And should we fail, we will be condemned to the underworld," Rath answered.

"Oh, great. So it's a no-pressure sort of thing," Presley said nervously. He and Max shared a glance: they really did not want to go in there.

"My prince..." Ja-Kal began hesitantly. He was suddenly unsure of this course of action.

"Look out!" Norman roared as a shadow fell over them from behind. Whirling instinctively, the heroes were universally horrified to see the enormous form of a baboon looming over them.

"Babi!" Presley exclaimed.

"Indeed," the god smiled.

"Virg, I thought you said we had until midnight!" Max shouted. "In San Francisco! Not here!"

"Yes, well I..." Virgil began, calculations running unsuccessfully behind his eyes. "I thought we did!"

"You think so three-dimensionally, old friend" came a familiar mocking voice. Max, Norman, and Virgil all looked up with deepening dread to see a sort of misty outline standing on Babi's shoulder. The figure was unmistakable.

"Skullmaster!"

"Yes, Cap-Bearer. Alas, though I am not yet again free of my prison, you continue to underestimate my powers. Did you really think I had not anticipated your clever plan to trap Babi between the space of the universe?"

"With the help of this lord of the underworld, I broke free of your trap," Babi scowled, menacing closer to the group. "And it was he who warned me of your plan to prevent my destined command of the world."

"You are mistaken," Ja-Kal called up to the form. "You are destined for nothing as the prophecy clearly states. We will send you back beyond the Western Gate and you will harm no one."

"Look, you really don't want to be messing with Skullmaster," Max yelled, feeling something rise up in his stomach. Fear. "He's seriously evil. There's a good reason he's locked in the center of my earth."

"What precisely did you think Babi was, boy?" the bone-faced demon of Max's nightmares laughed. "He and I are true kindred spirits. While he unfortunately cannot set me free, he can and will force your hand. And then the world, no, all worlds, will be mine!"

"And I will have unbridled power and will rain destruction upon the earth. All will fall to chaos and fire for all time and all living creatures will suffer. And you will be the first!" Babi crowed.

"Run!" Norman shouted as Babi moved forward, again beginning to spit fire. The little group raced for the only possible exit, the doorway to Ma'at.

"But..." Presley began, hesitating.

"No time!" Nefertina called, grabbing his wrist.

Max reached the arch first. He could feel something powerful, terrifyingly so, almost tugging at him. Unlike the portals, or even the powers of the Lemurian Arcana, this gateway pulsed with the kind of raw, unbridled power that thunderstorms produce in small amounts. He took a deep breath, knowing as soon as he touched the center of the glowing doorway that he would feel the wild energies of creation as he had only once before, and that had not been a pleasant experience.

"Go, Mighty One!" Rath shouted as the others drew near.

Taking a deep breath, Max threw himself unflinchingly through the gateway, the rest of his friends at his heels. Skullmaster's triumphant laughter echoed after them as they vanished from the world as they knew it.


	11. The Domain of the Gods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nope. I have, unfortunately, not received rights to these awesome characters in the last few minutes. Sigh. 
> 
> Enjoy!

For a terrifying moment, there was nothingness. If empty were a color, this was it. Perfect silence, perfect oblivion that went on without end. Personality, even the ability to think or know that there was something to think with was wiped away in the stillness of an absolute void. And it was the most frightening thing anyone born to the mortal world had ever known.

Then existence rushed back with the force of a slap. Max found himself on his hands and knees, retching and trying to get air into his lungs, but grateful all the same. Even through the anguish of returning feeling and consciousness, being able to think and feel and exist was a relief. Air hurt as it struck his empty lungs, but the ache was welcome compared to nothingness. After a few agonizing moments as pain shot through his chest at every convulsion, the Mighty One was able to look around him.

The sight that cheered him was Virgil to his right, leaning over him in sympathetic distress. Presley, on the left, was also huddled and dry-heaving, pale, with beads of sweat on his forehead. The blonde boy reached out hesitantly to his friend, resting a trembling hand on his shoulder.

"Are...you okay?" Max croaked, finding his throat and tongue were entirely dry.

"I guess," Presley panted after a few more moments. Then color started to return to his face and he could think about something other than breathing. "What was that?"

"That was the process of passing through death to the underworld," came Rath's voice from somewhere behind. Both boys turned their heads with difficulty to see the four mummies standing unaffected, crowded near their prince. Norman was leaning heavily on his sword, jammed into the ground for support, but the Viking appeared to be in better shape than the boys, pale and shaking though he was.

"How come...you're not feeling this?" Max asked grouchily as Virgil pulled him to his feet. He was not really ready to stand, but the ancient fowl was insistently tugging him upward. The Mighty One swayed, his knees feeling like jelly, but his friend held him up.

"You and Presley are mortal. We have already died once, so passing through the underworld does not affect us," Ja-Kal said.

"And Norman has not been mortal for more than ten-thousand years. Although I daresay he still feels the transition, just not as keenly as you," Virgil added.

"What about you?" Presley asked, leaning on Nefertina as he got himself upright.

"I am a Lemurian," the fowl replied, as though that should explain everything. Max and Presley exchanged looks, then shrugged. Standing did help. It reminded the boys of the feeling of a numb foot slowly returning to normalcy, albeit with pin-prick-y pain.

"So where are we now?" Armon put in.

"I'm not quite sure," Rath admitted. "Somewhere beyond the Western Gate, but not in any underworld or afterlife generally accessible to spirits, I suppose."

Everyone began to look around, trying to get their bearings in an unfamiliar dimension. The landscape was not terribly unsettling, which was a relief in and of itself. Max and Presley had half-expected to walk into a world like something out of the "Beetlejuice" movie; instead, the land was green and warm, a bit like the rolling hills of Ireland. It looked like the ocean, but a sea of green grass instead of waves, gently rising and falling over an endless empty plain, and the air was perfectly still. The only true strangeness was the cloudless sky, an odd shade of living, vibrant blue that seemed to echo the pulsating light of the stone archway back on earth. It appeared, in short, a bit like what the pre-air conditioning Egyptians might have wished for their desert country.

"What's our move?" Norman put in. Though his voice was slightly strained, he showed no more outward indication of discomfort from the passage through the doorway, now standing at his customary readiness.

"If my calculations are correct, we must find the site of the first trial and pass it," Virgil said, as the Mighty One regained his footing and stood unaided. "And I believe we will find it in that direction," he pointed.

"Are you ready to go, my prince?" Ja-Kal asked Presley gently. The darker boy took a hesitant step on his own, then nodded.

"Yeah, the feeling is fading now."

"Then let us get on with it," said Rath briskly. "The sooner we complete the trials, the sooner Ma'at will send Babi back where he belongs before he can hurt anyone."

"Virgil, how did Skullmaster get here?" Norman asked bluntly as the dimensionally-displaced heroes began to move in the direction he had indicated.

"Well, Norman, I would point out that he is not, in fact, here. It appears that Skullmaster has used some of Babi's power to project himself beyond his own world, but it is as an apparition, a shade of his true self. I conjecture that he is insubstantial, and that he cannot cause bodily harm in this form. But his plans and his knowledge may be danger enough."

"So that's the guy you're supposed to defeat?" Nefertina asked Max.

"Yup, that's old Bonehead," Max replied, hoping he sounded flippant. Skullmaster breathing down his neck was the last thing he needed at the moment.

"He reminds me of the Eye of Darkness," Ja-Kal spat. At the questioning look from Max, he explained, "a being who tried to overtake the world during a planetary alignment using the soul of Prince Rapses. We only barely defeated him. There is a definite resemblance between them."

"He is the greatest evil our world has ever known and will ever know," Virgil said, a touch of emotion creeping into his tone. "And if it were not for the Mighty One, he would reign supreme forever over all the universe, and perhaps over your world as well."

"Could he really take over our world?" Nefertina pressed.

"It is conceivable, given what you've told me," Rath nodded at the shorter scholar. "He is very powerful, and I imagine he would not be satisfied with just one dimension."

"So how'd you beat him?" Armon asked eagerly.

"Whoa, hold on. I didn't beat him yet, you know!" Max protested.

"You saved the world the first time," Norman pointed out.

"Yeah, but..." seeing everyone looking at him, the Cap-Bearer sighed. "Look, Skullmaster got out of the center of the earth and tried to destroy the world. And I almost let him. But at the last minute I was able to turn back time and start everything all over," he said, almost apologetically. "This time around, we haven't made the same mistakes, and although we couldn't stop a lot of things from happening, we didn't let him out of Skull Mountain. So he's still there, and everything from about a month ago on has been new stuff to us. That's why we didn't know this was coming."

"How did you turn back time?" Ja-Kal asked, amazed. Max shrugged. He really didn't want to talk about what happened at Stonehenge again. Living through it the first time had been bad enough.

"He is the Mighty One," Virgil intoned.

"I really hate it when you do that," Max groaned.

"So...if Skullmaster is sort of here now, how does that change things?" Presley asked.

"Good question," Rath replied. "My understanding is that Skullmaster is significantly more dangerous than Scarab, so this is not a good thing for us. But if all he can do is advise Babi, I cannot imagine he would pose that much of a threat."

"You don't know Skullmaster," Norman said darkly.

"He is the most devious and dangerously clever adversary we have ever known," Virgil added. "Do not underestimate him."

"Yeah. We do it all the time," Max rued. "And we always get burned."

"This going to be really not fun..." Presley sighed.

-==OOO==-

 

"So, Virgil, how did you know this would be here?" Presley asked catching up to the Lemurian. With nothing on the landscape but a sea of meadows, finding what must have been the site of the first trial was not terribly difficult. On top of one hill, rather taller than the others, was a small step pyramid. It reminded Max of one he had seen in Central America with his mother, complete with a flat top instead of a peak about two thirds of the way up.

"Well, to be perfectly honest, I didn't."

"But you told us to walk in this direction," Ja-Kal protested, looking up at the structure before them.

"Indeed. But it was not the direction, but rather the length of the journey that mattered," Virgil answered nonchalantly. "That's rather a good dictum for life, actually," he preened after a moment's thought.

"What?" Nefertina's eyebrows raised into her hair.

"What he means is that this pyramid is not really anywhere in this world. Geography is largely irrelevant here. We could have started walking in any direction, and after a certain amount of ground covered, this would have appeared before us, as it has. Distance is meaningless when time and space are one," Rath explained. At the blank looks surrounding him, he and Virgil sighed in unison.

"It's very complicated," Norman translated.

"So, now what do we do?" Armon asked.

"Look!" Everyone turned at Max's voice to see a flash of white circling the top of the ziggurat. "I guess we go up there."

"You know," Presley said as the group began the climb up the stone steps that led to the top on the near side of the pyramid, "we've sure walked a lot, but I don't feel tired at all."

"Nor should you," Rath said. "We are now outside of time. None of us will feel tired, or hungry for that matter, as those needs of the body for food and rest are beyond us here."

"I'm hungry!" Armon objected.

"Well, there's always an exception," the snake-avatar said, rolling his eyes.

At the top of the steps, everyone stopped in surprised awe. The boys felt their mouths go suddenly dry again and even Max's customary banter was silenced. In the center of the square that was the pinnacle of the temple stood a being completely unfamiliar to them, but known all the same. There could be no mistaking the figure that waited for them.

"Ma'at," breathed Nefertina as she sank to her knees. The other mummies followed suit.

"Should we...?" began Max, as his own guardians bowed. He and Presley shrugged at each other.

"You are warrior kings, you have the right to stand in her presence," Ja-Kal whispered.

"Rise, children," commanded the being's musical voice. If either of the boys had been asked to explain what Ma'at looked like, they would have been forced to admit that she resembled a white ostrich, but not like any that had ever walked the earth. Normal, mortal ostriches had stupid faces, empty eyes, and long, gangly necks. Ma'at was as like an ostrich as a horse is like a unicorn. She was a pillar of grace, curves, softness, and light, right up to the sharp point of the beak. She was uniquely and disarmingly beautiful, but there was an edge in the glow radiating from her body, and her talons looked powerful enough to kill.

"We have come to endure your trials," Max found himself saying in a strangled but somewhat dignified voice as his friends stood up.

"To summon you to earth to save the world," Presley added nervously.

"I know why you are come. And we shall see if you prove yourselves worthy, young chosen ones. But know this: the fate of the earth lies not only on your shoulders, but on the worthiness of your guardians. They, too, must pass certain trials, though they will not pay the price of my summoning. That will fall to you alone."

"Price?" Norman asked under his breath, suspicious.

"The first trial is one of courage," the goddess continued, ignoring the interruption, "and you would all do well to remember that courage can take many forms. You must prove yourselves worthy of the task set you. If you accept this challenge, step forward into the wind." And with that, there was a bright flash of light and the deity vanished. Where Ma'at had stood was instead a column of rushing air, like a small, misty tornado, sprouting from the pyramid away into the sky.

"What did all that mean?" Armon asked softly after a moment of silence.

"It's complicated," Rath answered.

"He doesn't know," Nefertina giggled.

"Well, we won't learn anything standing here," Virgil pointed out. "And we certainly cannot go back now."

"Don't worry, my prince. We will be with you," Ja-Kal reassured his young friend.

"I'm-I'm not worried," Presley said defensively. "Why should I be worried?" Ignoring the obvious tremor in his young voice, the four mummies donned the armor of Ra to be prepared for whatever waited ahead.

"Then let's go," Max decided. He approached the cyclone cautiously, then turned back to the group just behind him. "Um, anybody want to go first?"

"This is a test of courage, Mighty One," Virgil admonished. "You cannot show fear now."

"Right," he mumbled. Then, trying to smile, the Cap-Bearer turned to Presley. "Together?"

"Together," Presley nodded, feeling his own throat constrict nervously. "On 'three.'"

"We'll be right behind you," Rath said comfortingly. Norman gave Max a thumbs-up. The boys shook themselves and squared their shoulders almost as one to face the vortex of wind that had turned somehow ominously hot.

"One...

"Two...

"Three!"


	12. The First Trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more for the moment. I hope you're having fun with the ride. I sure did when I wrote this one. But then, I know where we're going here, so I imagine my perspective is a bit more…evil.
> 
> Enjoy!

The good news was that this time the trip was not nearly as frightening as it had been passing through Ma'at's first doorway. It felt much more like a regular portal, albeit the windiest portal Max had ever known. So, landing with a bump on a hard ground was not a surprise. In fact, he was rather relieved to start. But the bad news made itself evident almost immediately.

"Where is the prince?" Ja-Kal demanded.

"Where's everybody else?" the Mighty One returned the question, getting to his feet. Looking across an expanse of dark hills that reminded him uncomfortably of Skullmaster's domain, his heart sank at the realization that he and Ja-Kal were alone.

 

-==OOO==-

 

"Is this part of the test?" Presley asked.

"I...am not sure," Norman replied, drawing his sword. "But we must find the others and pass this trial."

"I wish..." but Presley stopped himself before completing the thought.

"I were one of your guardians?" the Viking finished for him, knowingly.

"No, nothing like that! I mean, I do, but I'm not worried or..." The boy-prince trailed off uncertainly.

"I understand. We'll find them, young prince. In the meantime, I will protect you." The Guardian set a pace and strode off across the land, promising himself that the boy at his side would be safe, and hoping his own ward would be all right as well.

-==OOO==-

 

"This is not my ideal for completing this task, you know," Virgil said irritably as he stumped along beside Armon. "I am certain the Mighty One will need me and at present I cannot locate him, or even begin to anticipate where he might be!"

"What about Rapses? He'll need me, too!" Armon said, his face grim.

"We must find them and quickly." Virgil scuttled, trying to keep up with the enormous warrior beside him. "And in the meantime, you must be very careful. I will try to warn you of any impending danger as I become aware of it, but I am no fighter."

"Whatever comes, I can take it," the ram assured him blithely. "Just stay out of the way."

"I plan to," Virgil muttered.

-==OOO==-

 

"Great. Of all the people in the world to get stuck here with alone, it had to be you!" Nefertina exclaimed as they crossed the vast expanse of empty, dark land.

"Well I'm not particularly happy about it either. Where is the prince? We must find him at once!" Rath exclaimed.

"Who died and made you Ra?" the lioness demanded.

"I am the superior intellect, and I have a far better chance of finding the way out of here than you do," Rath said, crossing his arms.

"Just stay out of my way and find the others," Nefertina sighed angrily.

"As quickly as possible," Rath amended to himself.

 

-==OOO==-

 

"Rapses will need me. We must hurry!"

"Hold on, Ja-Kal," Max said, grabbing the mummy's arm as the falcon started hustling in no particular direction. "This is the trial, I'm sure of it. Like Virgil said, we can't start with fear. Calm down. If I'm here with you, Presley's probably with one of the others. He'll be fine."

"You are wise, Mighty One," Ja-Kal said, taking a breath. "The hunter cannot track his prey in a rainstorm."

"Uh, whatever. Anyway, let's think this out," the Mighty One said, letting go and looking around. "This is a test of courage, right?"

"Apparently."

"So to pass it, we probably have to do something totally hard and scary, right?"

"Most likely," the mummy shrugged.

"So let's head for whatever seems dangerous and let the trial find us." Max turned in place until he spotted a shadow on the horizon that looked dark, as though clouds had settled on the rocky land. "That way is my guess."

"You show much insight for one so young," Ja-Kal said as they turned towards the dark horizon the boy had indicated and set off at purposeful pace.

"Yeah, well, you do this enough, you get used to it," Max shrugged.

"Does not Virgil serve as your guide?"

"Um…" the Mighty One searched for a way to explain it, "it's more like he has the answers for my questions, but it's up to me to know what to ask, and to work out what to do with the information."

"I see. I am sorry you are without them," Ja-Kal said, hoping a little of his own anxiety on the behalf of his prince did not leak into his voice.

"Ah, it's okay. We get separated all the time. I'll find them, or they'll find me. We always do." Max smiled at the falcon, surprised by the consternation in his face.

"How is it that your guardians so blithely ignore your safety?" The question was suspiciously curious, not accusatory.

"Ja-Kal, you have got to chill out," the Mighty One sighed. "Things don't work for us the way they do for you. Look, you're a team with the other guardians, right?" At Ja-Kal's nod, he continued, "Well, so am I with Norman and Virgil. We have to trust each other to do our job. I'm not as strong and Normie, and I'm not as smart as Virgil, but there is still something I have to do in every fight, so I take the middle ground and they let me handle it. Okay? So quit with this protectiveness. You're worse than my mom."

Ja-Kal was surprised at the annoyed tone in the Cap-Bearer's voice. He had not anticipated the backlash of frustration he got, but then, the falcon admitted he had rather pricked at the Mighty One's pride. The proverb, "never wound an animal strong enough to turn on you" flashed through his mind and he nodded internally. Although not much older than Prince Rapses, Max acted more like a warrior than a boy, at least in situations that required it. He would have to remember that. Noting the contrast between this confident and self-assured boy and his own somewhat sheltered prince, he broke the silence with a conciliatory voice.

"What do you think this test will consist of?"

"I don't know. Maybe some creepy cave where we face our worst fears. I saw that in a movie or three," the Cap-Bearer smiled grimly, good-humor restoring itself. "But I get the feeling this is more than just a question of how much danger we are willing to stand up against."

"I, too, believe there is a greater measure of character taking place."

"I just wish I knew what it was."

 

-==OOO==-

 

"Well, this can't be good," Presley remarked. He and Norman had walked across the nasty plain for quite long enough, only to find a deep crevice. Peering down into it, a ruddy glow marked something at the very bottom.

"We probably have to go down," Norman grunted.

"Yeah. And how're we going to do that? I don't have any rope. Do you?"

"No. But who needs rope?" Norman pointed out, dropping to a squat and beginning to climb down into the wide crack in the earth.

"What if we fall?"

"Are you afraid?" the Viking asked pointedly.

"N-No. No, I'm not afraid," Presley said, drawing his shoulders up.

"Good. Then come on. And Presley," Norman's voice was much softer, "if you fall, I'll catch you."

"Thanks. I just wish Ja-Kal were here." Even as he said it, the boy-prince knew how much he meant it. He had so rarely been away from the side of his guardians; their absence resonated inside his heart. For all his complaining about wanting space from their over-protectiveness, Presley genuinely missed his friends. And Norman was small comfort.

Side by side, the pair climbed down, precariously clinging to every outcropping of rock they could use as a hand- or foothold. Once or twice the stone gave way under Presley's fingers, but always Norman was there to hold him up in case his feet betrayed him. The lack of physical exhaustion was useful, but the terror of the height, and the increasingly better view of what lie below, drained the boy-prince as much as though he had been expending energy the normal way. In spite of his fear, Presley found that talking distracted him and helped him forget all the things he had to worry about. Even if it meant talking about those worries.

"So," he grunted as he let himself down another step, "do you think the others will be all right?"

"Of course," Norman replied. Presley grimaced; the Guardian didn't even sound winded!

"Aren't you worried about Max?" he asked after a very precarious foothold nearly gave way under him.

"The Mighty One can take care of himself," Norman said, but the boy-prince could hear doubt in his voice. Realizing he had been betrayed, the Viking cleared his throat and continued, "But I don't like not being there for him."

Suddenly Presley's right foot slipped and his hands lost their grip. For a terrifying moment he felt himself falling backwards in slow motion, like in old westerns on TV. But before he could force even the beginnings of a scream through his throat, he felt his shirt tug and he abruptly came to a halt. Looking up, he saw Norman's hand outstretched, clutching the fabric of his clothing tightly. The Guardian winked, then pressed the rescued boy against the cliff, until he could again regain his hold on the rock.

"Th-thanks," Presley gasped, heart hammering.

"It's what I do," Norman smiled grimly.

Together, they continued their descent.

-==OOO==-

 

"You mean you can't climb at all?" Armon asked incredulously. Virgil, clinging to the mummy with all the strength in his arms, did not really think this was the time for a conversation. However, he also did not want to be rude to his unwilling ride.

"No. I am..." and he squawked as Armon made an unexpected lunge for a handhold and nearly sent them both plummeting downwards, "not really well-designed for this sort of thing."

"You can't fly either? I thought all birds could fly," the ram grunted, lowering himself with greater care.

"I am a fowl, not just any bird, and no, I cannot fly." Virgil's voice would have sounded more indignant if it weren't still strained by holding onto the enormous guardian's neck.

"Oh. Then what can you do?"

"I calculate possibilities and space-time vectors to determine probable outcomes and promising courses of action which the Mighty One and Norman can use to their advantage."

"You plan stuff," Armon summed up neatly.

"I...yes, I plan, as you say, 'stuff,'" Virgil said. Then, after a moment, "You understood me? Have you always understood the verbiage that Rath and I use?"

"More or less, although when you start using modern science-y words I get lost. Rath doesn't do that as much." Armon paused in his descent to look over his shoulder and grin at the startled Lemurian on his back. "I'm not sure when I started to get it, but it became habit. Making Rath repeat himself is a lot of fun. Don't tell him, okay?"

"Indeed," Virgil agreed. "I wonder if you could teach the Mighty One that."

Reaching for another handhold, the ram grinned.

-==OOO==-

 

"I still don't see why you couldn't lower me on a bandage and then follow," Rath grumbled, making his precarious way down the cliff-face. To his side, Nefertina glared at the rock.

"Because I am not doing all the work for you. Just climb, Rath."

"But you are the agile one. It is far more logical for you to assist me down and then come down yourself. This is, as the prince would say, 'a walk in the park' for you. I'm sure you could scale this twice as fast if you were not keeping pace with me," Rath tried to balance asperity with flattery in his voice. Mostly, it came out sounding petulant.

"And what if there's something down there you can't handle on your own and you need my help?" the lioness demanded.

"I'm sure I can take care of whatever we encounter here," he replied glibly.

"You..." Nefertina grunted as she moved carefully over a very sheer part of the cliff, "are the most aggravating, superior, pigheaded..." She cut off the rant as Rath's grip slipped and he shouted in alarm. Digging her claws into the rock, she cast her whip outward, snagging the snake-avatar around the waist before he could fall too far.

"Er...thanks," Rath stammered, swinging a little beneath Nefertina. Taking a moment to catch his breath and convince himself he was not splattered on the cavern's floor far below, he sighed resignedly. Then, when his nerves had unwound a bit, Rath drew his sword and plunged it into the cliff-face as he bounced off, giving himself a lever on which to hang his weight until he could regain a handhold.

"Don't mention it," she smiled with false sweetness. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like my whip back." As she extricated it from around his waist with a practiced flourish, her gaze dropped deeper into the chasm. Biting back a shout, she gestured with her head to the space down below.

"What is that?" At the confused trepidation in her voice, Rath managed to turn his head enough to look. Even at this height, his keen green eyes immediately saw what she was pointing at in the gloom.

"I believe we have found our trial."

-==OOO==-

 

"Whoa, ugly!" Max shouted warningly as Ja-Kal set him on the floor of the crevice. Having a flying friend was certainly better than trying to climb down these sheer cliffs in the Mighty One's opinion, but the sight that greeted them was hardly comforting.

"That…is probably our challenge," the falcon-avatar said, drawing his bow and a flaming arrow.

"No, really, you think?" Max quipped nervously.

Deep in the earth, so far down the dusky sky lent no comforting light, a strange sort of ring waited for them. Encircled in burning torches and jagged rocks, a clear space about the size of a high school gymnasium was obviously the site of the test of courage, but the combatant chosen for the battle was what caused both heroes to draw back in fear.

"Step forward and die," it rumbled through rows of razor-sharp teeth. With the head and body of a Nile crocodile, standing on two muscular legs, the monster loomed at easily eight feet high, heavily ridged in scales and horror-inducing. Far worse than the malevolent gleam in his eyes, the wicked teeth, or the long, sweeping tail, were the snakes instead of fingers that twined and bit each other in their agitation.

"Um…is this sort of thing, you know, normal in your world?" the Mighty One asked, hesitantly moving forward into the arena beside his companion.

"Believe me, this is not a common foe," the hunter said, setting himself for a fight. "Now stay back. I will handle this."

"Oh, no. You're not pulling that protect-the-kid act on me!" Max objected. "We're doing this together. I may not be strong, but I'm fast and you can't do this without me."

"No time to argue!" Ja-Kal exclaimed as the creature hurtled towards them.

"Dude, you seriously need a Tic-Tac!" Max shouted as he dodged an arm and headed for the high ground of one of the outcropping rocks. "Or at least some Listerine."

"Are you always so outspoken?" Ja-Kal asked, rapidly firing flaming arrows at the monster as he circled around the foe in the opposite direction from Max. To his dismay, the arrows appeared to find their mark in the monster's thick hide, but they barely slowed it down even after exploding in bright, momentary flames.

"Generally," Max answered. "Hey, big, green, and toothy! Ever thought about joining the circus?"

As the creature turned back towards the Mighty One and lunged for him, the golden-haired boy swung himself from the rock to a torch, neatly knocking it over onto the thing's head. This was when Max realized that the torches were oil-based, and thus, by splashing the liquid on the creature, caused him to catch fire without being able to stamp out the flames.

Roaring in pain and fury, the monster flailed about as the fire bit into its deep, tough skin and remained there to burn. He turned his attention away from the boy before him and began trying desperately to put himself out, the snakes that sprouted from his hands hissing horribly as they singed. The Mighty One decided this would be a good time to give the creature some personal space, so he quickly dodged to one side and rejoined Ja-Kal.

"Brave, intelligent, heroic kid: one; big, nasty, ugly lizard: zippo!" the boy smiled.

"Clever," Ja-Kal commended him as the creature abandoned its efforts and, with eyes red in rage, charged the pair. "But we're not done yet!"

-==OOO==-

 

"Come back here you overgrown excuse for a salamander!" Norman bellowed as the creature evaded his sword's mighty swing and instead began charging Presley.

"Help!" the boy choked in fear, backing up until pinned against the wall of the chasm. A part of his mind registered his amulet's glow for an instant, but mostly he was focused on the nasty thing heading his way.

"Rapses!" Norman roared, racing to protect him.

There was a moment of sudden stillness, when it felt to Presley that the world had stopped. The monster was running at him at full speed, Norman just a step behind. There was really no telling if the Mighty One's Guardian would save him before it was too late. It was, as Max would have called it, "hero time," if he were willing to claim heroism once and for all. Between one sliver of a heartbeat and the next, the boy-prince made the decision to fight.

"Take this!" he shouted, instinctively dropping into a defensive Egyptsu posture. When the scaly hands tried to close around him, Presley, ignoring the snake-heads that swarmed over his arms and bit into his unprotected flesh, executed a perfect throw. The creature flew through the air, crashing into a rough boulder with the force of its own momentum. Presley dropped to his knees, hugging his arms tightly and trying to hold back tears of pain as he staunched his blood with his shirt. The monster shook itself, gasping through its enormous crocodilian mouth.

"You will die!" it roared, stumbling slowly to its feet. Norman interposed himself between it and Presley, sword out.

"Not today." Then the Viking smiled in grim delight.

 

-==OOO==-

 

"Rapses is in trouble!" Armon shouted, looking at Virgil for help.

"I do realize that," the Lemurian said without looking up. He had caught the yellow glow of Armon's amulet out of the corner of his eye and knew perfectly well what it signified. But, as he told himself firmly, worrying about the prince, or Max for that matter, would not help.

"So, what are we going to do?" the ram asked, landing a solid punch on the monster's nose. So far, this grisly wrestling match was less than fair, with Armon starting to fear he was not strong enough alone to beat it.

"If you can get behind it..." Virgil began, scrambling out of the way as the two titans barreled close to him. Again his heart jumped into his throat at the thought of the Mighty One facing this, likely without his Guardian's help. The ancient fowl cared little for himself, but he could not stomach the thought of something happening to Max. But there was no time to waste in worry.

"I'm not running away!"

"I know that," he replied calmly. "But the combination of your mass, inertia, and the velocity you achieve with your enhanced capabilities should result in victory if you focus the power through the creature's body into a solid object."

"What?" Armon demanded, narrowly ducking the snake-arms. "Remember, I said no science words!"

"Grab it by the tail and throw it at the rocks," Virgil said, rolling his eyes and sighing. He still missed Norman.

"Oh. I can do that."

-==OOO==-

 

"But the prince is in danger!" Nefertina protested, gracefully flipping backwards so she stood shoulder to shoulder with Rath. Her whip had been somewhat effective against the resilient creature, but far more useful were her incredibly sharp claws. The sorcerer's sword had been equally damaging. Both warriors were worse for the wear, but they had not lost to the monster yet.

"I know, I know," the snake-avatar snapped irritably, backing slowly away from the encroaching creature to get a better offensive position. "But there's nothing we can do until we pass this test."

"Got any bright ideas how to do that?"

"Yes, I think so. Distract it long enough for me to get this spell going."

"All right," the lioness said warily, "but this better work. And then we're going after Rapses."

"It will. Now go!"

 

-==OOO==-

 

"Mighty One! Look out!" Ja-Kal's heart was racing with terror. He knew that somewhere his prince was in need of his protection and he was unable to help, which set his whole being into a state of desperate fear, blocking out several seconds of the fight as his mind thought only of his boy. And now it appeared that the Cap-Bearer was also in over his head and the falcon was too far away. Curse his distraction and his duty!

Max ducked in time to avoid the flame-broiled monster's swinging arms. He had only a heartbeat to think as Ja-Kal took aim from behind and let loose another volley of arrows which only increased its fury. Letting instinct guide him, the Cap-Bearer reached backwards and tore the nearest torch out of the ground.

"Eat flame, dino-head!" he shouted as he wielded the torch like a spear and pushed the burning oil-glass into the thing's wide-open mouth. The beast's momentum drove him back until he crashed into a rock, but Max held firm to the torch. It rammed itself further down the monster's gullet, spilling flaming oil everywhere.

"Perhaps this is a good time to back up," Ja-Kal called as he flew overhead and pulled the boy away from the mass of fiery creature that was slowly and horribly choking to death on hot oil and burning to death simultaneously.

"Yeah. Sick," Max whispered, shaking a little in the falcon's arms. He had faced a lot of nasties in his time, but this thing was one of the worst, and the method by which he had dispatched it was far gorier than any horror movie effects.

"You were very brave," Ja-Kal said, landing in the center of the ring and setting Max on his feet. "I am impressed. Had I battled it alone, I am not sure I could have triumphed."

"Sure you would," the Mighty One replied, turning away from the collapsing grossness. "So will the others. So what happens now?"

"Now you choose," said a musical voice. With a flash, the arena for the challenge and the body of the monster vanished, leaving Max and Ja-Kal standing back on top of the pyramid where they had entered the trial.

"Choose what?" Ja-Kal asked the voice politely, powering down his armor and returning to his usual state.

"You have survived this trial. However, your companions have all failed and thus proven themselves unworthy. They will be sent to the lowest depths of the underworld to suffer for all time without relief."

"No..." the falcon murmured.

"It can't be!" Max shouted angrily, hands coalescing into fists. "There's no way!"

"They have failed." The voice was final. "And you have a choice. You may join them in the underworld, or you may continue on. Should you decide to give up your quest, I will not rise to answer your time of need, but I will permit you to lift your friends out of the darkest underworld. You would rejoin them in another plane and remain together for all eternity. But the earth would fall. Or you may choose to stay your course and continue the trials. If you succeed, I will rise and the earth may be saved, but your companions will languish forever in pain unimaginable. It is your decision."

"You're telling me that I've got to choose between my friends and the world? How is that fair?" the Mighty One demanded.

"It is the justice of your duty," was the reply.

"I can't believe I've failed Prince Rapses...again," Ja-Kal said heavily, head hanging. "I promised him it would never happen again. And it's all my fault."

"This is not your fault," Max snapped. "What kind of goddess of morality does this to someone?"

"It is the way of divine justice," the falcon answered sadly. "I understand it all too well."

"Well I think it sucks!" The boy stamped his foot, now conscious of tears building behind his eyes.

"Choose, chosen king of your world and warrior in service. Your time is short."

Suddenly, where the whirlwind had been the first time appeared two circles of light. They shuddered, like the water in a pond when a stone skips across, and then each showed a scene from a nightmare. The first revealed San Francisco, the city burning and covered with smoke. Babi laughed uproariously amidst the carnage, Scarab and Skullmaster looking on. Echoes of screams whistled through the noise of the destruction. It was almost too much apocalyptic imagery to take in.

But the second scene was what caused both Ja-Kal and Max to gasp aloud with pain. A lake of fire, a hundred times worse than Skullmaster's domain in the center of the earth, was filled tortured souls crying for mercy. And between the shadows of strangers, Norman, Virgil, Presley, Rath, Armon, and Nefertina howled in agony and terror. Though they could not see what was happening with any detail, neither watcher particularly wanted to see more.

"Presley! No!"

"Norman! Virgil!"

"Choose your path and enter that world," came the voice. "You must decide now."

"What...should we do?" Ja-Kal found himself asking. His heart was torn and bewildered, and all he could feel was the suffering of his friends. But an anguished cry tore his gaze from the form of Presley in unspeakable pain. Max stood, head down, trembling. His eyes could not pull themselves from where Virgil and Norman screamed in the flames, and he bit his lip so hard that it bled. He threw his shoulders back with defiant pain and words wrenched their way past his heart.

"I hate you!" he gasped to the goddess who hung unseen in the air. Then Max took a few breaths and caught Ja-Kal's pain-filled blue eyes in his blazing ones. "We save the world. I am the Mighty One," and he spat the words with greater contempt than the falcon had ever heard in his young voice, "and you are still a guardian. We have a job to do."

"But...what is the point, why should we try if..." The mummies' leader could not finish the question.

"It isn't about us. It's about all the other people like them out there." Max's words brokered no argument. He stepped forward until he was inches from the view of his friends in the underworld. "I know what I have to do. It's…it's what you would want me to do. I'm sorry…" Then, after looking as though he could look forever and not see enough, Max threw himself into the scene of San Francisco and disappeared.

"I...I am so sorry," Ja-Kal said to the vision of his friends. "But the Mighty One is right. The pharaoh would ask me to protect his kingdom even over himself, no matter how…it hurt. I…" but his voice caught before he could finish with, "love you all." And feeling that his heart had already died and joined in the suffering of his comrades and his prince, the falcon-avatar choose his duty and stepped through the light.


	13. The Second Trial Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't own anything that gets referenced here except Ma'at and Babi, and then only as much as a mere mortal can claim to own an Egyptian god. Please insert all relevant legal-speak here that prevents me from being sued for…well, anything, really.
> 
> Enjoy!

There was a moment of perfect stillness as the heroes passed through their chosen doorway to find themselves on top of the pyramid once more. But where the scenes of death and pain and a horrible decision had waited, something else stood.

The silence was absolute as they stared. Then as one, they reacted with echoing shouts.

"Mighty One!"

"Presley!"

"Guys!"

"You're okay!"

The eight individuals rushed at each other, ending in a joyful collision of handshakes, slaps on the back, gripped shoulders, and a few hugs. When the confusion cleared, the four mummies stood all possessively gathered around their prince, while Max was flanked closely by his two friends. After the jubilant yelling in relief at seeing everyone alive and well and together again, a stillness settled over them.

"So...what happened?" Max asked, brashly breaking the quiet as usual. "I thought you guys had..." He could not quite finish the statement, but everyone knew what went unsaid.

"Yeah, we saw you in the underworld," Armon came to the rescue, concern leaking into his voice.

"And we had to choose," Presley continued softly, "between saving you all and bringing Ma'at to the world."

"And you have all chosen correctly," a warm voice trembled in the air. Light congealed before them, resolving itself after a bright flash to the form of Ma'at once again. "I am well pleased with you."

"That was the test?" Ja-Kal demanded. "That horrible choice between the ones to whom we are sworn and the world of our birth?"

"Indeed," she answered calmly, ignoring the furious tone of his words. "Any warrior can best a monster given enough training, wit, and skill. But courage of heart is a far greater test, and a far more worthy attribute. You were separated to force you to trust each other and work together, for had you not cooperated and relied upon each other's strengths, you could not have beaten the creature. However, even failing to destroy an enemy is not a true test of courage. To prove yourselves worthy, you had to show uncompromising commitment to something greater than your own desires."

"You are implying that we could almost have ignored the monster entirely," Virgil put in after Ma'at had been silent a moment. "That, indeed, the true test was to see if each of us would sacrifice our loved ones for the greater cause of humanity. That seems a bit...deceptive."

"Perhaps," Ma'at conceded, nodding her graceful head at her fellow feathered being. "But necessary. You must realize that this test is not only designed for the chosen kings, but for all of you. The kings," and she gazed at Presley and Max, "must prove themselves worthy to summon me. But you, their sworn protectors, serve to demonstrate the worth of your world. If you fail, I shall judge your people unworthy of any rescue by my powers."

"So what would have happened if we hadn't...all chosen right?" Presley found himself asking.

"Those who failed would have passed into the realm of fire and pain forever."

"Oh, well in that case..." Rath said sarcastically, frowning.

"Bummer," Max agreed.

"I don't like this kind of test," Norman scowled. Virgil "hmphed" behind him.

"Neither do I," Armon grunted. Nefertina made a growling noise in her throat and even Ja-Kal's composure slipped.

"Be still," the goddess commanded. Though her voice remained musical, a dissonance echoed in the sound as clearly as a warning claxon. "The trial is not intended to be easy or pleasant. You must be prepared to face your worst fears and your inner demons and yet answer to your duty. And the rules are absolute; I cannot be merciful to failure. You offered yourselves to be tried by my will by entering my doorway. Accept what you have chosen."

"My apologies," Ja-Kal said, dropping to one knee. "I did not intend to anger you, nor did my fellow guardians. We accept our choice and will question your judgments no more."

"You," Ma'at replied, her voice still sweetly edged, "take entirely too much upon yourself. I will not permit you to assume responsibility for the choices of others. It is not yours to do. But I accept your apology and will speak of it no more."

"My prince, you are bleeding!" Nefertina exclaimed suddenly, interrupting the exchange as she noticed for the first time how Presley had been bitten by the monster and injured.

"And you're burned, Mighty One," Virgil said softly, pointing to a few angry red places on his hands and face. Max shrugged. He got hurt all the time. It was nothing new.

"Step forward, young chosen ones," the goddess said then, gentleness in her voice once more. Without hesitating, both boys obeyed. Ma'at towered over them at close-range, but she lowered her head to their level with heartbreaking grace.

"Trust in me, my children," she whispered to them. Max and Presley closed their eyes, not sure what to expect. One, then the other, Ma'at gently touched her forehead to that of each boy. A warm light shuddered through them, and when they opened their eyes, their wounds were completely healed.

"Thank you," Max said softly. Presley nodded his thanks as well, feeling his arms wonderfully whole again.

"Prepare yourselves for the next trial," Ma'at declared aloud, making no acknowledgement of their gratitude. As the boys returned to their friends, the goddess lifted her wings. The entire pyramid began to glow, blinding light encroaching on the group like snow-glare. When they could see nothing but brilliance, Ma'at's voice echoed around them.

"Together as one, yet apart, you must prove your loyalty to that which causes you pain. Together you pass, or together you fail, but separately you are doomed."

-==OOO==-

 

Immediately the heroes wished they were back on the ziggurat. Instead of the blue sky, green hills, and brightness of the previous plane, or even the threatening darkness of the first trial, the group found themselves standing almost knee-deep in cold sludge. Dark, drooping water-trees dotted the landscape, their roots tangling together to create a labyrinth of branches and snags mostly hidden beneath the surface of thick, murky water. The sky was neither blue nor black this time; instead it was an ambient grey, without a trace of a sun or moon to light the land.

"You know, I'm really starting to hate that sort of thing," Nefertina complained.

"Where are we?" Armon asked, hauling himself to his feet after a misstep landed him squarely in the mire.

"I don't know, but it certainly smells foul!" Rath exclaimed. Then, looking at the storm-cloud expression on Virgil's face, added "No offense meant."

"We are obviously in a swamp," the Lemurian said primly, calmly wiping a trace of mud off the front of his robes. He was immersed up to his waist, so the gesture seemed to be moot except for what it did to preserve Virgil's pride.

"Mighty One! Where are you?" Norman shouted, ignoring them all as he intently sought his young friend. In alarm, the guardians looked around them into the trees, seeking either boy. But they were nowhere to be found and did not answer to repeated and increasingly-frustrated yelling.

"Not again," Ja-Kal lamented. He felt so defeated, already emotionally drained from the previous trial, he considered sitting down in despair in the endless mucky marsh that stretched in every direction.

"What kind of trial is this?" Armon demanded angrily.

"Yeah, why do they keep separating us?" exclaimed Nefertina.

"I wish I knew..." Virgil answered worriedly.

-==OOO==-

 

"But we're right here!" bellowed Presley, waving frantically. He and Max stood side by side in the middle of their friends, but apparently unseen.

"Normie! Hello?" Max asked, reaching out to grab at Norman's bulky arm. To his astonishment, he passed right through his Guardian.

"Um..." Presley said, attempting to touch Rath's shoulder and finding himself as ethereal as a ghost.

"I don't think we're dead. I mean, we could be, but it would be kinda lame," Max reasoned, having to move close to Presley to be heard over the arguments and shouts among the others. "I think we're just invisible."

"Great. So now what?"

"Let's follow them and see what they do. Maybe this is a test for the guys," Max suggested.

"But what if we're supposed to go and do something else?" Presley asked, keeping up to the Mighty One as they trailed their guardians. Rath and Virgil had finally convinced the others that there was nothing to do but find the challenge and meet it, and so were leading the way deeper into the swamp.

"Ma'at said something about passing or failing together, right? And that separately we would fail for sure? So I think we need to stay with them, for whatever reason."

"I hope you're right," Presley answered.

-==OOO==-

 

After walking through the muddy, knee-deep muck for what seemed like forever, even Norman's determination began to wear thin. Trudging through the swamp was making everyone uncomfortable, but the Viking had the advantage of being neither a short bird in a toga, nor covered in wrappings that became slimy and filled with the mess very quickly. After listening to Virgil squawk as he lost his balance and nearly took a swan dive into the mud for the third time, he sighed and hefted his old friend under an arm. Better to carry Virgil than be slowed down by him. Norman was always ready for anything; his combat boots and canvass pants, while not ideal for conditions that really required rubber britches, were a far cry better than anyone else's accoutrements.

"This is folly!" Rath exclaimed as he felt yet another disgusting tendril of the swamp reach through his bandages to trickle down his leg. "Why must we endure this unpleasantness? What purpose can it serve?"

"Besides making us all look like creatures that come from bogs on the Magic Box," Nefertina agreed, pulling a long, wet leaf out of her hair.

"This stuff itches!" Armon complained, trying to reach with his left hand to scratch his back where he had fallen and gotten mud across his shoulder blades.

"Enough!" Ja-Kal's voice was commanding even through his strain. "We've already been warned once about speaking out against the trials. Do you want to test the patience of the goddess?"

"Oh, come on, Ja-Kal," Nefertina said hotly. "You can't tell me you think us wandering around in this swamp helps us find the prince, or pass this test. It's all a waste of time!"

"Finding our prince is not a waste of time, nor is this experience!"

"You don't know that! We're just walking in circles here! What good is that?"

"Really, I believe we are getting off track," Rath interposed himself between a brewing argument. "We must locate the prince and the Cap-Bearer and we must pass this trial. Bickering will not help anything." He looked accusingly at the falcon and lioness.

"Sorry," Nefertina muttered. "I'm just worried. And wet."

"As am I," Ja-Kal replied honestly. "I suppose we're all a little on edge."

"I still don't see what good any of this does us," Norman remarked gruffly.

"Well," Virgil considered, stroking his beak as he looked up at everyone from under the Guardian's arm, "perhaps the point is to cause such irritation and friction as to put us ill at ease with each other, thus effectively distracting and dividing us."

"You mean Ma'at is trying to make us fight?" Armon asked incredulously. Rath shot the usually less-comprehending mummy an impressed look. Armon smiled smugly.

"Essentially, yes. Norman, if you would please," he said, gesturing to a log that poked up above the muck. The Viking set him back on his feet, and thus, almost at chest-level with everyone else, Virgil assumed his lecturing posture.

"The goddess did say something about remaining together," Ja-Kal remembered.

"Indeed. I would conjecture that the purpose of this test is to try our loyalties."

"But she already did that!" Armon protested.

"Yeah, and it was awful," Nefertina shuddered.

"Not our loyalties to our duty, but rather, our loyalty to each other," Virgil corrected her. "Ma'at stated that the trials for the Mighty One and Prince Rapses test their worthiness to summon her, but that our trials are intended to test the 'common man,' such as we are. Perhaps she wishes to see if the world is worth rising to save by observing how its citizens cope with strenuous and irritating circumstances."

"That would make sense," Rath said, considering. "For our worth is not only measured by our dedication to our charges, but also in our willingness to sacrifice for our world."

"Then what is the test?" Norman asked, cutting right to the point. He wanted to achieve his objective and get back to real work: protecting Max and saving the world.

Around him, everyone shrugged.

-==OOO==-

 

"Good question," Presley sighed. As uncomfortable as his friends, Presley's legs were cold and his sneakers were full of mud.

"Hey, at least they didn't fight," Max pointed out optimistically. He, at least, was accustomed to wandering around in less-than-ideal conditions, and his jeans and shoes, while as soaked and slimy as Presley's, kept him a little warmer than his friend's shorts. Max had also noticed a complete lack of animals, including mosquitoes, which he took as a true blessing from the goddess. Bugs were the worst.

"Yeah. But if Virgil's right," Presley continued, speaking over the others' intermittent speculation, "then didn't they just pass it? They cut the fight off and they all seem to be getting along again. So why are we still here?"

"I don't know," Max admitted. "Maybe something else will happen."

As nobody else came up with any good ideas, the five warriors started walking again, following a random course into the swampy trees, hoping something would find them. Virgil, hampered by his short stature, was once more carried by Norman to prevent his falling behind as he struggled to get through the muck. Max and Presley followed at the end of the column, still unseen. It felt like they had been plodding for hours.

"So, how did the talk go?" Max asked, trying to fill up the monotonous time with something so his brain didn't fall asleep.

"I'm not sure," Presley admitted. "I think I said everything I wanted to say, well, except about hating it when they fight, but I'm not sure they'll ever really see me as a hero."

"Give them time. You are a hero. They have to give you a chance to prove it sooner or later," Max said comfortingly.

"I don't know about that," Presley hesitated. "I mean, I think they understand what I want, that I want to do what you do, not just sit back and be protected, but I think they worry too much about letting me do it."

"You know," Max said thoughtfully, "being on the front line all the time isn't really that great."

"I know that! But I...I just want a chance," Presley said, face twisting in frustration. "I never knew a kid like me could be important until the mummies first saved me from Scarab. Then, their way of doing things, of keeping me out of trouble, it all made sense. I never questioned that they were right. It was how it was in Egypt and that was mostly good enough for me. I didn't push too hard because I didn't know anything else. And then..."

"And then I showed up with Normie and Virg," Max nodded.

"Right! It's so different for you! You're the hero, and they follow you into battle, not the other way around. And..." Presley gulped before continuing on bravely, "they treat you like an equal. You don't boss them around and you don't pull rank. You don't have to. But you're also not someone they tell what to do. And somehow, I'm both to the guys. I can pull rank and give them orders, but if I don't, then they're in charge and I follow them. It...it isn't the same."

"Are you really sure you want it to be?" Max asked quietly. At Presley's startled look he continued, eyes downcast and voice heavy with obligation, "Right now, you don't have to do anything but stay safe. You can be a mostly-regular kid with a couple of overprotective friends. Your life, except having to deal with being chased by Scarab, is pretty much the way it was."

"So?"

"Do you have any idea how much I envy that?" Max pressed. "Sure, I'm a hero. Yeah, I'm good with Normie and Virgil. I even like the adventures okay. But you can't know what it's like being on call all the time, anytime. I can be hanging with my friends, just doing, you know, kid things, and suddenly there's some cryptic message from Virgil telling me everybody on earth is going to die unless I come running and I have to drop my childhood for it. All I ever wanted was to be a regular kid, having fun, you know?"

"Yeah."

"And it isn't as bad as it used to be. I learned the hard way how important what I can do is to, well, everybody. I don't want the world to end and I don't want everyone to die, so I do my part. And I do like the adventure, and I do like that they trust me so much. But I can't tell you what I wouldn't give to have just one day when I could cut loose and hang out and not worry about what might be threatening the fate of the world this time. I won't...I can't turn my back on my destiny anymore, I know that. But sometimes I wish there were somebody else to be the hero."

"Really?" Presley asked, astounded. The Mighty One had always seemed to glow with confidence, energy, and luck. The prince had never suspected that deep down inside, he wanted nothing more than a normal life.

"Really. So...maybe don't be so hard on them. They still give you as much as they can, as much as they know how to. Same as Virgil and Norman. They try to make it up to me when they spoil the really good stuff, and I bet your guardians do, too. The mummies do need to learn to accept that you can help, that you should be a part of the fight, but maybe you need to learn to accept that they protect you the best they can."

"I guess." They walked in silence for a few minutes.

"And Pres?" the Mighty One raised his head finally.

"Yeah?"

"Don't ever take a single day of fun for granted. Because every day you don't get attacked by Scarab or a host of other Egyptian uglies is a day you get to be yourself and enjoy the world like everybody else does, and that makes it worthwhile. The days I'm just Max and I don't have to save the world remind me why I do save the world."

 

-==OOO==-

 

"Norman?"

Ja-Kal had subtly placed himself at the Viking's side. Though he had no illusions of privacy, given both that this was a trial and under scrutiny from an unseen goddess as well as the fact that even lowered voices carried over the murky water, the falcon felt honor-bound to say something. In truth, he would have far preferred not to hold this particular conversation before his team, but he felt certain that these circumstances, and therefore his enforced openness, were not unintended by Ma'at.

"Hmm?" the Guardian half-grunted.

"I just wanted to thank you for protecting Rapses in the first trial." The words came out sounding small.

"You were with the Mighty One. It's fair," Norman shrugged.

"Yes, but…" Ja-Kal sighed. "I've never trusted anyone but one of the pharaoh's guardians with his safety. And I've been somewhat suspicious of you, even without cause."

"It happens. Not my problem that you're a stick-in-the-mud." If Norman was jesting, he kept it well hidden behind a stoic face, but the pun was not lost on his companion.

"Well, yes. But what I'm trying to say," the falcon-avatar said, feeling his face grow a bit hot, "is thank you. You protected him when we could not, and you did so with selfless courage and honor. It is to be commended. I would not leave Rapses in the care of any other, but you acted in good faith and I appreciate your…"

"Leave it," Norman interrupted him. "I get it. I've earned your respect, but not yet your trust. I can live with that. Can you?"

The question caught Ja-Kal entirely off-guard. He was not accustomed to being verbally disarmed so abruptly. It appeared that the Guardian had seen through his attempts at the proper niceties of office, and had hit upon the uncomfortable truth at hand. The falcon was not willing to accept Norman as equally worthy a protector for his charge, yet had been forced to deal with that precise eventuality already more than once. He could not in good conscience be comfortable with that arrangement. And yet…some part of him wanted to trust this warrior from another world. Norman, somehow by his presence or his calmness or his sturdy strength, engendered an almost immediate faith and ease. Ja-Kal was wary of such an instinctive reaction to a stranger, and yet on some level he wished to give in to it.

"Yes," he replied stiffly. "I can live with that."

"All right, then." Norman turned back to the business of marching as though nothing had happened. The other mummies and Virgil, having been listening without attempting to interfere, followed the Viking's lead and continued awkwardly, mulling over their own thoughts. And unseen, Max and Presley also considered Ja-Kal's words. Nothing would ever be simple when it came to their respective guardians, would it?

"Hey, look!" Nefertina interrupted a very long silence. Something glinted ahead, as though reflecting a nonexistent sun. With a heart full of hope, the despair of endless trudging gone, the lioness increased her pace towards it with a whoop, everyone following in her wake.

Wading through the thick swamp with all the speed they could manage, the muddy heroes climbed over fallen branches and sloshed through deep puddles until they at last found themselves faced with something entirely unexpected. The dark slime and wet ground abruptly gave way to cooled lava-flows, the charcoal-colored once-molten rock forming odd furrows into the water, as though it had melted like ice into the dense, swampy muck. Several paces up the thankfully dry and solid magma, a perfectly round obsidian dais bore a very strange construction. Resembling a mausoleum more than anything else, a narrow building stood solemnly, apparently made of the same cooled lava as the ground, intricately carved with scenes from Egyptian mythology. Perfectly black and quite shiny, the building was entirely adorned, even the vaulted roof, except for the blank double-doors that faced them.

"Whoa," Norman said, setting Virgil on his feet on the dry land.

"This is remarkable," Ja-Kal breathed.

"The inscriptions would suggest..." Rath began, circling the small building with long, eager strides, "that this is a place where souls are measured."

"Measured how?" Nefertina asked nervously. "I know when one is dead they weigh the heart against a feather, but we're not dead. Well, okay, we are dead, but they can't weigh our hearts," she said, blushing slightly at the amused looks given her by her fellow mummies.

"I believe we will find out," Virgil intoned. "First, we must find a way in."

"I could break down the door," Armon suggested.

"Absolutely not!" Rath roared. Glaring at the sheepish ram-avatar, he continued in a very superior voice, "This must be done by careful study and delicate precision. Virgil, let us find the key to inducing the doors to open. The rest of you," and he waved off-handedly at Ja-Kal, Nefertina, Norman, and Armon, "just stand back and wait."

"Breaking down the door seems fine to me," Norman muttered as he with the other less-intellectual mummies sat on the dry ground, ringing out wet clothes and bandages to let the scholars work.

-==OOO==-

 

"You know," Max considered, stepping forward to examine the doors himself, "I wonder if we can open the doors."

"What do you mean? Why should we be able to open the doors? Isn't that Rath and Virgil's job?" Presley asked dismissively, trying to scrape chilly swampy mire off his legs having already dumped out his shoes. Max appeared not to notice the sludge still dripping from his jeans.

"Oh, come on!" he retorted, exasperated, "We're the chosen ones! This is the sort of thing we're supposed to do, not them." He turned back to the doors, biting his tongue against some of the things he had considered saying. Watching Presley react with a mix of sulky indifference and pricked pride, for the first time Max could see how much his counterpart needed to start acting like a hero. Presley was a great guy, but he still had some things to learn about taking responsibility for his gifts.

"So, just walk through the door," Presley suggested angrily, wiping his hands off and joining Max, scowling at Mighty One.

"Huh. Good idea," Max said with false brightness. Reaching out a hand hesitantly, he moved to pass it through the somehow intimidating black stone. As he touched it, he felt himself drawn forward violently, as though the doors were a giant vacuum-cleaner sucking him inward. He only managed a startled yelp before the force of it pulled him into an empty abyss.

-==OOO==-

 

"What was that?" Norman demanded, jumping easily to his feet and drawing his sword.

"What was what?" Ja-Kal asked. "Did you hear something?"

"It sounded like the Mighty One. Like he was in trouble."

"He is in trouble!" Presley yelled, getting right in front of the Guardian and waving frantically. "You did hear him! Do something!" But Norman apparently had only been aware of his Mighty One and ignored Presley entirely.

"I didn't hear anything," Nefertina said.

"Nor I," put in Armon. The one-armed guardian looked to Rath and Virgil for confirmation, but they were around the other side of the black structure, unaware of anything that was not upon the sculpted walls.

"I know I heard him," Norman replied angrily. With a small roar he struck his blade against the cooled lava-flow, venting his frustration. Inches in front of him, Presley was surprised to see the darkness of the worry in the warrior's face, as well as the deep gouge he made in the stone.

"You did hear him! How can I make you understand?" Inspired, Presley raced to the edge of the rock and gathered a handful of mud. Forming it into a nasty ball, he flung it at the Viking, hoping to thus get his attention. To his surprise, however, though the muck clung to him as it did the mummies, once it left his hands it disappeared. He realized now that, though the others had left wet footprints on the black rock, he did not, even though he could see the slime dripping off his body. This was definitely not his lucky day.

"Now what do I do?" he demanded, moving to Ja-Kal's side. "You've always been there for me before. Why can't you hear me now?"

"I fear our prince is in danger," Ja-Kal said suddenly, as though spurred on by Presley's words. "My intuition is warning me that something is wrong."

"Do you think so?" Nefertina asked.

"Our prince is brave," Armon said. "Even without us, he will be all right."

"I don't know that," Ja-Kal admitted. "He has shown himself to be courageous, but he has little experience with resourcefulness on his own."

"Hey!" Presley protested.

"But he is with the Mighty One," Armon pointed out. "He will protect our prince."

"He's got a point, though," Nefertina said. "Rapses shouldn't need to depend on anyone but us to protect him. He needs to be able to take care of himself, for this very reason!"

"I know, I know," Ja-Kal said, shaking his head. "I just...I don't want to be wrong about him. Wrong that he can be all we hope."

"Well, he never will be unless you start teaching him. We can't expect Presley to learn anything if all we do is protect him. We have to guide him," Nefertina accused, her voice growing intent.

"You hold him back by not trusting him," Norman said quietly from where he still stood listening intensely for Max. "Give him a chance. He may surprise you."

"What about you?" Ja-Kal shot back. "You're the one standing there worrying about the Cap-Bearer! You're no different than us."

"I have never held the Mighty One back from his own destiny," Norman replied nonchalantly. "Even if I don't like it, I have to let him fight his own battles. Otherwise he'd never learn how and he'd need me to fight for him for the rest of his life."

"Aren't you going to be there for the rest of his life?" Nefertina asked, interested.

"Sure. I'm the Guardian. It's what I do. But the day the Cap-Bearer doesn't need a Guardian is the day the world will really be safe because he will finally be the hero I know he can be." The unexpected serenity of the Viking's voice calmed even Presley's agitation. Though worry for Max was still clear in every line of his body, Norman seemed content in knowing that he would fight at the side of his friend forever, looking forward to the day when it was as an equal and not a protector.

"I guess I never thought of it that way," Ja-Kal said softly, doubt still heavy in his voice.

"Neither did I," Presley agreed, trying to touch the falcon's shoulder. Finding himself still not solid, he turned back towards the building. "I guess I always figured I'd want you to protect me, and I do, but Norman makes a good point. Even though I want your help, I need to not have to rely on it. That's when I'll really be a pharaoh."

Feeling conviction blaze in his heart, he turned away from the friends who could not see him and returned to the black door. Max had gone this way. No one else could help him.

"Okay. It's hero time for real now," Presley said quietly to himself. Dread and fear weighing heavily on him, the boy-prince pushed his hand through the door and vanished inward.


	14. The Second Trial Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our story continues…
> 
> And I continue to not have ownership of Max, Virg, Norman, Pres, the mummies, the bad guys, and a host of other neat stuff. This is the work of fantasy. Ooh…neat stuff…
> 
> Enjoy!

The vortex of force ended as abruptly as it had begun. Max found himself in a small dark space, although he could no more tell if he were inside the structure or alone in the cosmos of endless emptiness. Before him, however, a light blossomed, bursting all at once to reveal, strangely enough, a mirror. The Mighty One took a step closer.

As though lit from within, Max found he could see himself quite well in the glassy surface. As he started to look around, however, the reflection changed. Instead of his mud-splattered form, the mirror rippled like a pond, then showed him a scene he had long wished to forget.

> " _We gotta save him!" Max shouted, standing beneath an enormous spider that was in the process of ending Norman's life._
> 
> " _It is the only way!" Virgil cried despairingly as he pushed Max from behind into a nearby portal, effectively sentencing the Guardian to death._

"No..." Max whispered, watching with increasing horror as his friend was slowly and painfully chewed to death by the one creature that terrified the stoic warrior. A part of his heart was proud that Norman, even at the end, never cried out in pain or fear, but the rest of him was mourning the loss all over again. It felt as though Max's heart were being torn in two, and even though he knew Norman was alive now and it was behind them, the ache inside threatened to submerge him. After an eternity of watching the Guardian die, the scene abruptly changed, revealing Virgil's sudden death at Stonehenge.

> " _You-you promised!" Max gasped at Skullmaster who was smiling with great satisfaction at the place where Virgil had stood._
> 
> " _I lied." Donning the cap, the greatest evil the universe had ever known moved to the center of the stone circle to bring all creation under his command._

"I'm sorry," Max found himself whispering, not surprised at a wetness on his cheeks as he looked again and again to where Virgil had died. His friends – gone. It was the worst he had ever felt in his life; now that raw, cutting anguish of loss and guilt swept through his heart.

Then the scene changed another time, flowing from horror to the mundane. Max saw himself the day before the Cap arrived on his doorstep. He was goofing off with Felix, carefree as a bird and happier than he had ever been. Summer was on the way, he was passing all his classes, and girls were just starting to notice him. Things were great. The innocent smile that played across his face showed a great deal of self-satisfied pride and sheltered expectation.

"I thought I had everything that mattered," Max realized, looking at his younger and naïve self. "I thought the world didn't matter as long as it didn't come to bother me. I thought my life was all that counted and that it was filled just by doing fun stuff." The scene changed, now reflecting the conversation he had just had with Presley in the swamp. Listening to his own words, he cringed.

"Okay, so I still kind of think that way. I still talk like it's all about me and whether my weekend is spoiled. And it isn't. It can't be. I'm...the Mighty One, for better or worse, and I should know by now that fun isn't what life is all about."

Suddenly, the scene changed again, this time showing Max as he was in that instant, and yet not. He saw his own reflection as he would have seen it in any mirror, but hovering inside he saw something else; there was a boy, but a man, too, beneath the surface of his youth. There was courage and wit and dedication and heart, but also selfishness and a very narrow outlook on priorities. There was loyalty and friendship, but also arrogance and a willingness to put others down. In short, he saw his inner self reflected, nothing softened or excused. The good and the bad, all the things he feared and was ashamed of set right beside his accomplishments and better qualities. The sight of it, so cleanly displayed, made the Mighty One flinch. He turned his head, not wanting to see all his own limitations so harshly delineated.

"Choose." The voice was Ma'at, and all at once, even distracted with shame and hurt at his own shortcomings, Max understood the real trial.

"I may not be much, and I may not be worthy, and I may still let everyone down," he said heavily, knowing there was truth in his words, "but I can still do the right thing." His heart leaping with frightened courage, the Mighty One cast himself unblinkingly through the image before him, swallowing his shame and his faults with bitter pain.

 

-==OOO==-

 

"The Mighty One has passed his trial," a voice echoed over the swamp. Startled, the others looked up and around at each other. Virgil took a moment from his calculations with Rath to smile knowingly at the other scholar.

"Looks like he's okay," Armon said to Norman. The Viking grunted.

"Let us hope our prince is doing as well," Ja-Kal said fervently.

 

-==OOO==-

 

Presley faced the mirror with great trepidation. He did not see Max anywhere, so he took a guess that he was now being tested alone. As the mirror's reflection changed, he shuddered and turned away from the memories it brought to life before him.

> " _My father?" Prince Rapses looked suspiciously but hopefully at the vizier. A few soothing noises and the gullible boy consented to follow the one who would become Scarab._
> 
> _A rush of time and space later, the boy was dead on the ground. One by one in painful, eternal clarity, his four desperate guardians, brave and true to the last, bled their lifeblood out into the sands of Egypt, all in vain for the sake of a boy-prince they had failed to protect._

"Oh, guys," Presley gasped, finding himself unable to tear his eyes from the horror before him. Though he had known in his heart that his friends had died for him, he had never witnessed it. His mind could hardly take in the overwhelming sight, the pain of it, the awfulness of seeing what the violent end to a life looked like. The boy felt his knees give way before the sight and he crumpled in sorrow for those dying before him. The feelings that rocked his young heart went beyond words, beyond his ability to grieve.

"I'm…so sorry," he choked, somewhere between feeling numb with overwhelming agony and wanting to scream it until his throat bled. Never in his life had he felt so awful. But then, Presley had never known death. Loss and fear, certainly, but nothing like this. "I didn't know it was so bad. Maybe it wasn't me, but it should never have been you that paid with your lives."

The scene whirled in the mirror, pulling away from the sight he could not forget. Instead he was faced with a running montage of images: times he had fled danger in fear rather than attempting to fight, times he had foolishly disobeyed his mummies and endangered them, times he had raged at them rather than taking blame or shame upon himself. Regaining his footing, Presley stood and faced the visions, a few errant tears still falling at the memory of the first, shocking image.

"I...look like I'm not even trying," Presley mumbled to himself with surprise still colored by guilty pain. "Look at me – all I do is run and hide! Or get in the way. For all the complaining I do about the guys never giving me a chance, I guess I'm not taking any chances they do give me, either." The scene changed again, to a junkyard where Scarab was attempting to re-cast Talos, and he remembered with chagrin how he had completely betrayed his guardians' trust, and the price they had almost paid.

"I tricked Armon into bringing me along, and then I went and screwed up the ambush, almost getting myself caught," he berated himself, feeling heat spread across his face and neck. "And then, after we got away with the little Talos, I stole him to clean my room, and almost got us all killed. Rath was right to be so angry with me. I wasn't thinking. All I wanted was to have it all my way, not to do what was right for anybody else. I...was pretty selfish."

The mirror shifted a final time, reflecting Presley's faults and virtues neither modified nor softened. There was his arrogance, his cowardice, his unwillingness to accept the consequences and prices of his own desires. He looked at himself, all his shortcomings and failures, and stared at his feet. His heart sank. So much for being a hero like the Mighty One. Presley would have bet anything that Max didn't see anything like this in his trial. But he, the bearer of the spirit of Rapses, was entirely unworthy of the honor and adventure he so craved. He wanted to be a real hero, but saw for the first time that heroism carries a price, and some heavy obligations, and he had consistently refused to accept them.

"I...I'm not a hero. I'm just not," he said, looking bravely back at the mirror that showed no mercy.

"Choose."

"Choose? Choose what?" Presley asked, startled out of his despair by the voice. But when no answer came, he returned his gaze to the image before him.

"Okay, think," he told himself. "What's the choice here? I guess it's between being worthy or not. But I'm not worthy, I'm just not," and he clenched his fists angrily against the admission. But then a moment of peace shot through him as he remembered with clarity something Ja-Kal had once said to him.

" _Aim with your heart, my prince."_

"Okay, Ja-Kal," Presley breathed, dashing the last wetness from his eyes and looking defiantly into the mirror. "My heart still says I want to be a hero. Maybe I'm not ready yet, but I never will be if I don't try harder. So..." and he gathered the rags of his courage, "I'm going to choose to try, and hope it's enough."

And in that moment he saw and knew exactly what he needed to do. Though it lanced shame through him, the young pharaoh stepped calmly through the reflection, accepting his failings and his potential.

 

-==OOO==-

 

"Prince Rapses has passed his test," Ma'at's voice sounded across the clearing. Jumping to their feet, the mummies shared triumphant looks. Rath moved to join them, finally tearing himself away from the inscriptions.

"He did it!" Nefertina rejoiced.

"Of course he did," Rath said testily, "He is the pharaoh, and my best student."

"Nevertheless," Ja-Kal interjected, "now we must find some way to reach him."

"I believe that will be much easier than we previously thought," Virgil said, calmly stroking his beak.

"Why?" Armon asked. Virgil and Norman shared a knowing look, then the Lemurian smiled secretly.

"Because of that," Norman shrugged nonchalantly, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder. Turning to what they had not seen before, the four mummies realized that the doors of the small temple had opened wide. As Norman calmly crossed his arms to wait and Virgil folded his hands into his robes, the guardians became aware of a steady pulling sensation, as though they were being sucked towards the darkness of the building.

"What's going on?" Nefertina demanded of Rath.

"Um...I believe we're going for a ride," he managed to get out before losing his footing. A heartbeat later, all six heroes were airborne, drawn through the air towards the vortex.

 

-==OOO==-

 

Max blinked, surprised by sudden light after the darkness of the trial. He found himself facing Presley, standing, once again, on top of the ornamented pyramid. The other boy looked both pale and red, and his eyes were big.

"You look as bad as I feel," the Mighty One said, finding his voice surprisingly low, a lump still in his throat.

"That...was awful," Presley nodded. "Was it bad for you, too?"

"Yeah."

"You have both passed your trials, young ones," came the voice of Ma'at. Though they could not see her anywhere, they could feel a comforting softness in her voice. She spoke fondly. "You have proven yourselves worthy of your gifts."

"But I'm not!" Presley found himself protesting, the pain of a few moments ago rearing up inside again. "You just proved it!" Beside him, Max nodded silently, the Mighty One's heart pounding in his chest.

"The purpose of the trial was not to illustrate your sins, nor the fact that you are both human and young, and therefore prone to error," the voice continued, warming the very air with its gentleness. "The purpose of this trial was to force you to accept that truth in yourselves while not being bound by it. True worth is in knowing you are only human even as you strive to do more, and that being human is enough."

"Wait, are you saying that the point was to make us feel bad about ourselves so we would choose to do better?" Presley asked.

"In essence. But more to the point, to remind you that humility is a far greater quality than heroism, and that even kings must continue to dare all pain, even shame, for that which is more important."

"Ja-Kal said something like that to me," Max suddenly remembered. "Something like, 'the lion knows he is a mouse,' I think."

"That sounds like Ja-Kal," Presley nodded, smiling a little.

"The falcon is wise," Ma'at said softly into the air around them. "But now we shall find out if that wisdom will serve."

"What do you mean?" Max asked, finally feeling more like himself. The whole experience had drained him and he felt as though his insides had been stirred up with a sharp wooden spoon. It was strange for the usually exuberant Mighty One to feel so cowed.

"Now you must both witness the trials of your guardians. For what they face is not private to them, but rather significant for you and thus something you must see. Be warned: that which they must achieve to pass the trial is not what I have asked of you, for they must be worthy, not only of your world, but of guardianship to you. Observe, and learn."

 

-==OOO==-

 

Nefertina had tried to keep her wits about her, but the moment she passed through the black doorways, she lost sight of everyone else, even though she knew they had been right beside her. Abruptly she found herself upright and alone and surprisingly transformed into the armor of Ra.

"Hello?" she called into the darkness. All at once, a bright light flashed, illuminating her surroundings.

In a space that was colorless and empty, rather like the inside of an unadorned tomb, the lioness found herself standing inside a golden cage that arced high above her, its bars delicately narrow and very close together. Turning, she saw that the cage was joined to a flat disc, linked and balanced as the two pans on a scale. Into the space before her appeared Ma'at. Instinctively, Nefertina dropped to her knees.

"Nefertina, lioness of the pharaoh," the goddess intoned, "stand and be measured."

"Measured?" she asked, thinking back to her comment about weighing hearts.

"As is the way of Osiris, you shall be gauged against one feather, and if you are found to be of equal or lesser weight, you shall pass your trial." A flash of light to Nefertina's left drew her attention. Indeed, on the other pan of the scale, opposite her golden cage, a luminous feather hung suspended. It gracefully fluttered through the air until it touched the golden disc identical to the one on which she stood, minus the cage.

"Reverend goddess," Nefertina said, turning in alarm, "my body weighs a lot more than a feather."

"Indeed. But it is the merit of your soul I weigh, not your body," came the answer.

Nefertina turned back to the other pan, trying to tell if she was going down or up in comparison. To her horror, she saw the opposite end of the scale begin to lift. She felt sweat break out on her brow in consternation, her thoughts racing.

"I've got to be lighter! I don't want to fail!" She turned away from the feather to face Ma'at once more.

"Heavier or lighter, I am the prince's guardian. No matter what I am worth to the gods, I am worth something to him, and to myself. I don't care what your scale says. Give me a test I can pass and I'll show you that I'm worthy!" she said with her heart in her throat. Defiance felt good. At least she was fighting back, forcing the rules to give her a chance.

Ma'at nodded and gestured. At her outburst, the scales had tipped once more, and now she stood on a level with the feather. Nefertina breathed a sigh of relief as light overwhelmed her once more.

-==OOO==-

 

"So, Nefertina passes?" Presley asked anxiously, turning his eyes from the sight before him that danced in the air.

"Nefertina passes her test," Ma'at's voice confirmed. "She has shown that her loyalty and dedication outweigh even her failings."

"So...what do the scales really measure?" Max asked curiously.

"These scales measure commitment, the ties that bind your guardians to you. If they remain level, or if your guardians should be lighter than my feather, it shows that they are loyal to you beyond any doubt and before any other loyalty."

"And if they aren't level or lighter?" Presley asked.

"Then they fall into darkness forever."

-==OOO==-

 

Little surprised Norman anymore, including finding himself in a golden cage on a set of scales. Though he would normally have begun the process of breaking out of the confinement immediately, he recognized that this was a test, and, forcing himself to think like Virgil, perhaps escape was not the right option. When Ma'at appeared to him and gave her little speech about measuring and weighing, he shrugged. Either he was worthy or he wasn't; there was little he could do to prove it one way or another.

Folding his massive arms against his chest, he closed his eyes. This whole scenario about testing for honor was stupid in his opinion. How could the Mighty One be unworthy of such a little thing as calling a goddess to life? He'd done far more already and been worthy, conducting himself with honor when it mattered. And, the Viking thought with a shadow of anger, if this Ma'at decided that the Cap-Bearer was somehow unworthy of her, they might have a problem. Nobody insulted the Mighty One before his Guardian. Ever. Max was destined to greatness beyond any other warrior ever born, matchless against any hero Norman had ever known in his long life. And if the goddess couldn't see that, he might have to get angry. The Mighty One was unapproachable by anyone, even a deity, and Norman could prove it by the sword if necessary.

Without knowing why, Norman opened his eyes to find himself raised much higher than the all-important feather on the opposite plate, a small smile on the ostrich's face.

-==OOO==-

 

"Way to go, Normie!" Max shouted.

"Hey. He just stood there," Presley pointed out, perplexed. "He didn't say anything."

"No. He did not need to," and Ma'at's voice was very satisfied.

 

-==OOO==-

 

Armon punched the cage in frustration. Nobody had said anything about weighing him, and he knew for a fact that his golden arm was heavier than Rath's whole body! He would have un-transformed himself to remove the added mass, but the armor appeared to be ignoring his command to retreat. This must be the intent of the goddess.

"Maybe I shouldn't have eaten that last Beefy Burger," he lamented. "Presley always says I should watch my weight. How wise he is!"

The thought of his young prince filled the one-armed warrior. Armon could not let himself fail. He could not let Prince Rapses down. He redoubled his efforts pounding on the cage, but it refused to show so much as a dent in the fine metal.

"I've gotta get out of here and find Presley!" he growled angrily. "Test or no test, if I'm not here to be heavy, I can't fail. And the prince needs me." Stepping back, Armon lived up to his ram avatar and bashed the cage with his head. It jarred him, but it was worth it if it gave him a way to reach his ward. So busy was he with trying to demolish the cage from the inside, Armon never realized he had settled just above Ma'at's feather.

-==OOO==-

 

"Oh, Armon!" Presley smacked his head in rueful frustration at his guardian's violet response to the situation.

"Hey, he passed, anyway!" Max pointed out.

"Yeah, I know, but..." the boy prince trailed off and sighed. "He never changes."

"No, he does not," Ma'at agreed.

 

-==OOO==-

 

Rath considered the situation carefully, green eyes flicking from Ma'at to the feather that was moving into place on the opposite side. Blast Nefertina for being right about the scales of measurement used by the gods! He wondered what the definition of "merit" was according to Ma'at, and whether he might be allowed to plead his case if the scales went against him. But, from his translations on the walls of the temple back in the swamp, Rath felt reasonably certain that whatever was being measured was not something he could manufacture or create; either he would be found worthy or he would fail.

"Oh, hurry up!" he snapped at the feather, lazily making its way onto the opposite disc. "All this waiting is getting on my nerves." He rolled his eyes up to the hood of his serpent's helmet. For all his scholarly nature, Rath remained a mummy of action. Though he flourished more in the pursuit of knowledge or problem-solving than the type of action Armon preferred, the snake-avatar felt that this standing around was indeed a waste of time.

"How long can this possibly take?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from sounding too severe as the scales began to tremble and move. "The world is being ravaged by Babi as we speak, the prince is off somewhere in this dimension without us, and here I am waiting for a feather! If the prince has need of me and I am not there..."

Rath trailed off, marshalling his thoughts into order. Even though his tightly restricted heart lunged in the direction of the boy, the scribe tried to keep himself at peace. Worrying needlessly about Rapses would not help him pass this test. And he had to pass it, of that he was certain. It was not just the threat of an eternity in the darkest nether-realms that concerned him; rather, it was the knowledge that without his help his prince might fail.

"He needs me. They all do," he thought impatiently. Then, speaking aloud, he said in a commanding and yet almost pleading voice, "Now finish this quickly and send me back to my prince who is waiting for me."

When the scale lifted him higher than the feather, Rath smiled indulgently. Himself, unworthy indeed!

 

-==OOO==-

 

"Well...he's kinda..." Max began, unwilling to finish.

"Arrogant," Presley groaned. "Yeah, I know. But I guess he passed."

"Quite so," Ma'at said gently. "Though Rath blusters around his true feelings with intellect and obnoxious presumption, his heart beneath all that is pure, and very loyal. He is worthy."

-==OOO==-

 

Virgil was not remarkably pleased about finding himself in a birdcage, all things considered. It was bad for his dignity. He stood with his hands behind him, attempting to look appropriately serene and wise. As he listened politely to Ma'at's words, his ancient mind was racing. After running a series of rapid calculations in his head, he pulled out his abacus and began muttering to himself, aware that on his left the feather that would measure him was lowering itself into place.

"Hmm... The probability is excellent that this is a test of loyalty," he mumbled as he shoved beads back and forth. "Likely a question of commitment to the Mighty One. Well, then, this should not be any problem. I have always been loyal to the Cap-Bearer's destiny."

A heartbeat later, however, Virgil felt his throat go dry. The scale was tipping against him! He hurriedly turned back to his mental calculations, his voice growing high and unsure with rising distress.

"But if the feather is showing that I am unworthy, and I am certain this is indeed a test of loyalty, then the only reason I could be failing it is...that I am not loyal. But I am!" he protested, flailing his arms as the scale dipped a touch more.

"Unless..." and a sudden guilty thought flashed through him, "Unless the true loyalty of my heart lies with the prophecy and not with Mighty Max himself."

"No, that simply cannot be true," Virgil declared, setting himself as he normally did when arguing basic and provable facts with Norman. "I admit, I may have an overeager attachment to the prophecy, and I may be somewhat inflexible when it comes to fulfilling one's destiny, but that is not where my loyalty ends. I'm certain of it." A measure of peace came over him then.

"For all his irreverent, provoking ways, the boy Max is my charge and hero, not only because it is written, but because I choose it to be so. And destiny or no destiny, Cap or no Cap, I will stand with him. It's...my heart can do nothing else," he whispered the last line.

Virgil was so caught up in the feelings he so rarely experienced, let alone expressed, he never saw how high the scales rose in his favor.

 

-==OOO==-

 

"I knew he could do it!" Max crowed gratefully.

"It was kind of a close one, though," Presley said nervously. "Does that mean Virgil almost believes in the prophecy more than you?"

"I think..." and Max took a hesitant breath before continuing, "it's more that Virg likes to think he is working for the prophecy, like that's all that matters, because it's easier. He already lost one Cap-Bearer. I suppose he'd rather think about destiny, which he doesn't have to care about, than worry about me."

"You are wise, Mighty One," Ma'at remarked, "and indeed, Virgil's choice was difficult. But he has admitted to himself that he is loyal to you over his desire to cling to prophecy, and so has passed the test."

"One more to go, then!" Max smiled brightly.

"I know," Presley said hesitantly. "But I'm afraid it will be the hardest yet..."


	15. Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying the ride so far. We're getting into the good stuff now! Well, actually, I'd like to think it's all been good stuff, but this is the part that makes fan-girls go "squee!"
> 
> Unfortunately, squeeing or not, still don't own Mighty Max or Mummies Alive! Just for entertainment, a certain amount of personal pride, and a lot of wasting time.
> 
> Enjoy!

Ja-Kal's heart felt heavy. There was something piercing in the goddess's eyes, as though she were pulling apart the protective layers of his heart to see its darkest corners. Caught by that gaze, he was barely aware of the feather moving inexorably towards the opposite side of the scales. Ma'at's body was rigid, almost unforgiving, the gentle grace of her previous incarnations gone. This, Ja-Kal felt with every fiber of his being, was not benevolence; this was a huntress stalking prey.

Feeling the cage move around him, the falcon pulled his attention from the luminous being and remembered his position and the conditions she had set. Heart sinking with dread, he turned to see the feather's pan rising. A moment of fear rocked him, then he turned to the goddess in bitter defensiveness.

"How can you find me unworthy?" he demanded. "I have sacrificed everything for my duty to the prince and the pharaoh. I lost my family, my life, all the things that were dear to me! Where can you find fault with this?"

"What you say is true – you did indeed sacrifice much for duty. But any beast will do their work if forced to it with yolk and whip. The worthy beasts are those who go willingly to their work. It is so with men as well." Her face was set, her large eyes dark and sparkling.

"I have given everything!" Ja-Kal roared in disbelief. "How can you ask for my heart when it is duty that determines honor? Nowhere in my vow to the pharaoh was a promise to always be cheerful about my obligations. Is that what you want? Me to be happy to have lost my family? Because I'm not!" He stepped to the cage bars, gripping them as if he could will the scales to rise. Stubbornly, they continued to sink.

"I ask for your heart," and her voice was cold, "because it is yours to give. It is you that refuses to offer yourself. If you were incapable of giving your heart, duty would suffice. But you are not, and thus, the simple act of obedience does not satisfy the conditions of loyalty and honor and merit. I do not ask for 'happiness,' as you put it, but rather honest dedication from the spirit. Because you can offer yourself this way, you must. Or fall into pain."

Ja-Kal leaned his head against the delicate golden bars of his prison, memories pricking at his feelings. He remembered the face of his wife, the last time he had seen his son, and how desperately he loved them still. He remembered the night Padjet was born, and how brave and strong Tia had been through even a difficult first birth. Ra above, but still he ached for them! Then, thousands of years later, he had seen his nephew again, young Kimas, and those pains were doubled. For not only had he lost the wife and child of his heart, but he had also watched a boy as much his blood as his son torn away as well. The feelings collided inside until he felt a confused sort of pain and loss for a son, a wife, a brother, a nephew, and a life that were denied him, all for the call of duty.

"How can you ask me to stop loving them? To stop wanting that life back?" he whispered wretchedly. The space was beginning to feel hot and Ja-Kal feared all at once that he was doomed to fail.

"I do not," and the voice, though still edged, had a softer side to it, like an echo of a smile from eons ago. "But love of your family cannot outweigh your duty to your pharaoh. You made your choice to serve. Now you must do so wholeheartedly and un-begrudgingly."

"I cannot. I love my family. No duty can ever replace that. I see now that you will not accept me. But I will not betray my family, even for you." And he resigned himself to his fate, waiting to be consumed by fire.

-==OOO==-

 

"This isn't fair!" Presley shouted, watching Ja-Kal's expression change from pain to confusion to anger to a terrible mix of all three. He turned away from the scene to face the air around him that was filled with the presence of the goddess.

"Yeah! How come he has to have more duty or whatever to Presley than to his family?" Max demanded, looking around also.

"I am not asking more of Ja-Kal than I have of any of your other guardians. But the fact is that the falcon is more conflicted than any other I have tested for you, torn between competing responsibilities. I cannot and will not allow any whose hearts are not cast firmly upon their duty to pass."

"But why?" the Mighty One asked again.

"Let me put it to you this way," Ma'at's voice was firm, but gentle. "As kings, both of you must put the welfare of your people before your own. You are bound by duty to protect your people, be they your guardians, friends, families, or the people of your worlds, even if it means pain for yourself. Is this correct?"

Presley looked at his feet while Max nodded.

"And even if it should mean your deaths, the sacrifice of your own life for those under your protection is a necessary part of your destiny, is it not?"

This time, both boys nodded silently, Presley a bit ashamedly. To him, this depth of duty was still sort of new; the Mighty One already knew this all too well.

"And if your choice was between your own hearts' desires and the good of your people, you must choose your people, even if it costs you dearly? It is the same for your guardians, except, where you must choose the good of the world over yourselves, they must choose you."

"So, you're saying that they have to give up everything for us, no matter how much it means to them, just like we do for other people," Max breathed.

"But why?" the reincarnated pharaoh asked. "I didn't ask Ja-Kal to do that! Why does he have to give up his family for me?"

"You did not ask him that. But the pharaoh Amenhotep did, long ago, when he became your guardian. And he agreed. Ja-Kal cannot back out of his oath now, no matter his personal feelings."

"But can't you see that making him decide is hurting him?" Presley pushed, his hands clenching and unclenching in his agitation. "Can't you just leave it that he is doing his best? Why does he have to choose one or the other?"

'It is the way of destiny, young prince." Ma'at's voice sounded almost sad as she said it. "There are many such sacrifices that must be made by those noble and honorable enough to be called to them. They will not be easy or pleasant, but they must be done for the greater good of all."

"Then let me make one," Presley said suddenly. His green eyes burned with something powerful as he raised his eyes to the vision of Ja-Kal once more. "Can't I trade something so he doesn't have to go through this anymore?"

"Pres…"

"No, Max. I…I think I understand it now. It is Ja-Kal's duty and responsibility to be loyal to me, but I also have a duty to be loyal to him. This is between us. It…it shouldn't be up to anyone else how loyal he is. So please, if there's something I can do to make it my fault and not his, I'll do it." He squared his shoulders.

"Are you offering yourself in his stead?"

"Offering myself?"

"As the one to whom his duty is sworn, you have the right to accept his failures upon yourself, to suffer the consequences of his actions in his place." Ma'at's voice had returned to that unreadable, echoing tone that spoke of ageless power rather than mortal sympathy or understanding.

"Wait, Pres," Max interrupted as his friend opened his mouth to respond. "What sort of consequences are we talking about here? 'Cause is isn't going to help anyone if you send Presley to burn in fire forever or whatever. We do need him, you know!"

"Indeed. But for the selfless nobility of his sacrifice, that he already passed this test, and the fact that he is, as you say, needed, I may moderate the consequences of Ja-Kal's failure to such that are neither eternal nor life-threatening."

"So it won't kill me and it won't stop me from saving the world?"

"Correct."

"Pres!" The Mighty One's voice was tightly concerned.

"Max, wouldn't you do the same for Norman or Virgil?" the dark-haired boy said, turning to his friend. Max's face fell as he nodded solemnly. He understood, with an all-too familiar lurch, what Presley had to do and why.

"Then I'll do it." Such simple words, spoken with a mix of pride and shame, fear and courage, love and pain. Though his heart skipped several beats in his own terror at whatever he had agreed to, Presley felt himself soar. This, then, was what it really meant to accept his destiny. Max had been right; it wasn't easy, but it would somehow be worth it anyway.

"Very well."

 

-==OOO==-

 

Ja-Kal felt the slow downward motion of his cage stop abruptly. After a heartbeat of waiting for the fire to take him, he looked up in surprise. Though still far lower than the feather opposite, the sense of impending doom that had cast all his words and thoughts in despairing shadows had vanished. Before he could ask, however, the form of the goddess before him spoke.

"Ja-Kal, falcon of the pharaoh, you have failed this test of loyalty and commitment out of your own fear and unwillingness. You pledged your life to your pharaoh, and you are hereby found forsworn against the charge you must protect because you do not choose that duty over another."

The guardian sighed. He was sorry, painfully sorry, but he just simply could not let even sacred duty to the prince outweigh the love he carried for his family.

"However…"

Ja-Kal's heart shot into his throat as the bars around him melted and disappeared. Something was terribly wrong, he was sure of it.

"Your punishment has been commuted by the interference of the Prince Rapses. He has given himself over to me in your stead."

"No!"

"And therefore," Ma'at went on, not stopping for his interruption, "you shall be released to continue the trials on behalf of the world. But know that you will not find clemency another time. The boy can only take your failure upon himself once."

"What will happen to him?" Ja-Kal demanded, cold to his core with dread.

"That," and Ma'at's voice was frigid with unhidden condemnation, "is not your concern."

Before Ja-Kal could even react, everything went dark.

The next thing Ja-Kal knew, he was standing on the mountains of Egypt once more, facing the doorway of Ma'at that they had all passed through hours or days or moments ago; time itself seemed to have stopped for them. As the last scent of the world of the gods drifted away, he heard words on the breath of air that ruffled his bandages with a sickly warmth.

"Do not fear to love all those within your heart, be they of your blood or royal, for love is the highest loyalty of all." Then it was gone.

Before the falcon could even comprehend what he had heard, the doorway of Ma'at glowed intensely for a moment, then the light winked out completely. In its now bare archway stood the others, the mummies also untransformed as Ja-Kal had been. Of all of them, only Norman looked completely unaffected. Rath appeared pensive, Armon and Nefertina betrayed great relief, and Virgil seemed troubled. Ja-Kal's gaze was drawn to the pair of boys standing in front of the rest.

"My prince! Are you all right?" he cried, voice tight in his chest.

While the Mighty One appeared only pale, the boy whose weight he supported looked awful. Presley's normally robust color was ashen, his green eyes dull and turned inward, and his breathing was labored. Though Ja-Kal's eagle-eye could detect no injury, the young prince was reacting as though he had been grievously hurt.

Their leader's outburst drew the attention of the other guardians, and within a heartbeat there were three more bandaged individuals fluttering over their boy in concern. But, strangely, Presley shied away from everyone, accepting neither touch nor offers to help from his friends. Instead, he relied solely on Max, whispering something only the Cap-Bearer could hear. The two began to hobble towards Ja-Kal. Trapped by the sight of the suffering of his prince, the falcon could not look away from his shadowed eyes.

"Presley…what happened?" Ja-Kal croaked. He was dimly aware of the other mummies gathered behind the boys, their faced worried. His mind barely registered the presence of the Mighty One, holding the prince together and upright, let alone Virgil and Norman somewhere beyond.

"It…it doesn't matter, Ja-Kal." The boy's voice was rough and raw, and it cracked with a dry sound when he spoke his guardian's name.

"This is my doing, Rapses."

"Never mind. It's over and we've got work to do," Presley said, swallowing hard. He turned to his friend and spoke again, this time audibly to the rest gathered near. "Do you remember what she said? I've forgotten it after…everything."

"I remember," and the Mighty One's words were laced with something heavy and distressed. "Virg?"

"I am here, Mighty Max," the Lemurian stepped forward, his eyes anxious. The ancient fowl carefully studied every line of Max's body, looking for whatever had so damaged Presley. He found nothing, excepting the evidence of some great emotional turmoil, but that could well have been on behalf of his obviously-pained friend. There would be time for questions later.

"We have to go to the very head of the Nile. Ma'at said that we would find what we seek at the divided mountain. That's where we can call her forth, if we're still worthy. Do you know where that is?"

"Give us a few minutes," Rath put in, joining Virgil, who was thinking hard. "Between us, we should be able to calculate the precise location without too much trouble."

"In the meantime, we'll rest," Max agreed, carefully steering his weakened friend over to an outcropping of rock a short distance away, enough for them to speak privately. The two boys sat down, one gingerly, the other heavily, and stared into space, as though they witnessed something else entirely before them.

"Ja-Kal? What happened to him?" Armon asked as soon as the boys were out of hearing-range. Virgil and Rath pretended not to listen, but everyone else leaned in to hear the falcon's soft-spoken words.

"I…I failed my test," and he hung his head to hide his shame. "I failed and I was condemned to the fire. But Presley did something, I don't know what. All I know is that Ma'at said he gave himself over in my place."

The silence that followed was astounding.

Then a fist flashed and Ja-Kal found himself sitting on the ground with a very sore jaw. Before him stood an enraged Nefertina, with Armon and Norman looking quite shocked behind her.

"How could you? You talk about duty and everything, and you go and leave him to…whatever it was that made him like that?" The lioness's voice was nearly shrill with her vexation, and her hands clenched so tightly her knuckles were pure bone. The finger she jabbed towards where Presley and Max sat was stiff and shaking.

"Nefertina…" Armon began, his voice almost consoling.

"No. She is right," Ja-Kal said miserably. "This is my fault, and I deserve no less."

"You…arrogant, unfeeling, hypocritical jerk!" Nefertina continued, seething as she stalked back and forth before the hunched and deflated falcon. "You lecture us all and you don't even have the courage or whatever to prove your loyalty to Ma'at!"

"Yes. I thought what I was doing was right, but it turns out I've been wrong all along, and now the one person I was supposed to protect got hurt – again – because of me. I'm…I'm not even worthy of this," he said, fingering the amulet on his chest.

"All right. That's enough," Virgil said, stepping forward. He gestured to Norman, who physically hauled Ja-Kal to his feet, but the once proud leader was so shrunken he barely topped the pint-sized Lemurian.

"I am a failure."

"I said stop it," the fowl snapped testily, stomping a clawed foot. "Your wallowing in self-pity does not help you, us, or Presley. It could have been any one of us, and I would wager that more than one of us was near to failure ourselves." At this, Nefertina looked at the ground in sudden, still embarrassment. "Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and start acting like a guardian. Or do you want whatever he suffered to have been in vain?"

"But I…"

"I don't care, they don't care, and I am quite certain your prince doesn't care how much you hate yourself right now. If you want to make up for it, accept your fault and do better. Your inner-strife and this inappropriate dissent between us only weakens our position and distresses Presley. If you care anything for the boy, get a grip!"

"But…"

This time the blow was a smack, and though it was not gently levied, it did not knock him down. Ja-Kal turned in surprise to where Rath's green eyes blazed in the remaining light. The look in the scholar's face was solid, and though condemnation was evident there, it was first and foremost a gruff and noble command to be a warrior and not a petulant child. That look could have energized the most downtrodden person, and it served to remind the falcon that his life still had purpose: his boy was alive. It galvanized his courage.

"Thank you." Though still deeply haunted by guilt, the mummies' leader could think again. And now that he could think, it was time to take action. "Do you know where we need to go?"

"We do," the snake-avatar replied, as though nothing had happened at all.

"Then let's go. I don't know where Babi is, but I know that when we find him," and a fierce anger began to smolder within Ja-Kal's heart, "I will make him very, very sorry for all the pain he has caused."

-==OOO==-

 

"You okay?" Max asked Presley after a few moments of silence.

"I will be."

"I wish you had let me come with you."

"I know," and the ghost of a smile flickered across his face, "but it was mine to do. Ja-Kal is my guardian, not yours."

"I know, but…"

"Don't worry about it, Max. It's over and now we just have to get to Ma'at's place and we can save the world. Somebody once told me it wasn't always fun to be a hero, you know. I guess now I know what you meant."

"Pres…" But whatever the Cap-Bearer had been intending to say was cut off by the sudden antics by the mummies. The boys watched in quiet awe as Nefertina vented her feelings, and then Virgil and Rath tried to set Ja-Kal straight again. When the falcon-avatar looked more like himself again, albeit still crouched against an inner pain, they shared a glance.

"He feels like it was his fault."

"Well…wasn't it?" Max asked pointedly.

"Only sort of. Do you know…?" Presley broke off, then took a shuddering breath. "Do you know what Ma'at told me when it was over?" Max shook his head. "She told me that it's because Ja-Kal loves me that he failed. Because he doesn't let himself care about me, since he thinks having any feelings for me is a betrayal of his duties. And because he thinks he either has to be loyal to me or love his own family, that he can't do both for some reason."

Presley took a breath and let it out slowly, looking fixedly at his knees. The last piece of this seemed somehow harder to communicate to his friend. It was only now that he was beginning to understand it himself.

"The thing is that Ma'at told me she wasn't really weighing the guys against anything in those trials, no matter what she said or how it seemed to us. They were weighing themselves against their own feelings the whole time. Like, with Virgil, I guess she was really making him face his fears about his real motivations more than measuring him against some standard. You know, how we had to face our own failings to pass the trial we had. And Ja-Kal was weighing his guilt over breaking the law by caring about me against his love for his family. So since he wouldn't let himself focus on anything real, all that was left was the responsibility of guardianship and it wasn't enough to beat back his own shame."

"Ma'at told you all that?"

"Yup," the prince said, affecting nonchalance with some success, "right after…well, afterwards. I guess to distract me. But it does make sense, doesn't it?"

"I think I get it, yeah," the Mighty One nodded.

"So he really didn't fail at all. He was just too scared to let himself pass. If he had been honest with himself, this wouldn't have happened. So he isn't really disloyal to me after all. It isn't anybody's fault. It just happened."

"Was it worth it, Pres? To save him, and to know what it was like to be a hero?" Max wanted to know.

"The pain was…well, it was bad, Max, really bad. I never, ever want to do it again," he shuddered, bile rising in his throat at the memory of anguish he had so barely escaped with his humanity intact. However, other things mattered besides suffering, this he had learned, and the echo of agony was fading. "But knowing what I do now? Yeah. I guess it was."

"Then that's all that matters."

A subtle throat-clearing noise brought the boys out of their discussion. Norman was standing with his back to them, near enough to be heard but far away enough to lend the illusion of giving them some space. Wordlessly, he tipped his head towards where the others all appeared to be waiting at a respectful distance.

"I guess it's time then," Presley said.

"Are you going to be okay?" Max hesitated, looking hard at his friend.

"Yeah. She said it would fade when we returned to the real world, and it is. I think I can make it on my own." To prove his point, Presley ignored Max's offered hand and instead climbed carefully to his feet. His color was returning slowly, and his eyes were brittle, but set. He looked determined to be strong, even though he felt like breaking. Max gave him a resigned smile and walked beside him to rejoin the other guardians.

"My prince, if you are ready, we are prepared to begin the journey to the divided mountain," Ja-Kal said with as even a voice as he could manage. Though he could still not quite look Presley in the eye, the falcon-avatar was making a valiant effort to take Virgil's advice. Lamenting for what was done would not help anyone right now – later he would give himself the chance to dwell on it.

"So, where is this mountain, anyway?" the Cap-Bearer asked brightly, trying to wash away some of the chill that still hung in the air.

"Well, Mighty One," Virgil intoned, obviously grateful for his boy's levity, "the actual headwaters of the Nile are in some of the most remote and inaccessible lands on earth. Indeed, even experienced explorers could not traverse the length of the river until quite recently."

"There are, in fact, two different sources of the Nile," Rath added, "according to your scientists. But we only recognize one, a sacred spring in the mountains to the south."

"Where?" Presley asked.

"Ethiopia," Norman replied.

"Indeed," Virgil continued. "We will be heading specifically towards the Semien Mountains. They are jagged, and, if memory serves, one was once known by an old name that roughly translates to 'divided mountain.' It is to that location that we must travel."

"So let's go," Nefertina urged. She hated standing around not doing anything, and deep inside, she longed for action. Even traveling to an unknown destination would give her something to distract her thoughts from her own near-shame and failure.

"Where is the portal that will take us there?" Armon wanted to know.

"That is where things become difficult." Rath sighed as he looked around, then continued. "You see, according to Virgil's map, there is a portal in the mountains, but it is several miles from the one we seek, miles of very rough terrain. We have some significant walking ahead of us, I'm afraid."

"What is it with the portals dumping us in the middle of nowhere?" Max demanded. "At least this isn't as bad as the one in the middle of the Australian Outback."

"How far away is that one from the next one?"

"Fifty miles," Virgil told Presley. At the boy's wide eyes, he chuckled, "You should have seen the Mighty One's reaction."

"Okay, so I'm not big on walking! Can we get going? If we have to trek through miles of uncharted mountainous jungle, I want to start sooner rather than later. It isn't long until nighttime, you know." The Mighty One crossed his arms against his chest indignantly, although internally he was glad to tease his friends. It meant more than just Presley's body was healing.

"Very well," Ja-Kal decided the issue. "The sooner we begin, the sooner we shall arrive. The cunning gazelle does not wait to flee from the lion."

"Whatever that means," Nefertina remarked, her voice a semblance of normal.

"Hey Normie?" Max asked as he bounded in front of his Guardian while everyone began to walk in the direction Virgil indicated.

"Yes?"

"About that piggy-back ride…"


	16. Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still don't own Mighty Max or Mummies Alive or the food pyramid. But I'm borrowing them. Deal with it.
> 
> Enjoy!

"I can manage on my own now, thanks," Presley grumbled. "Walking can't be nearly as dangerous as riding up here, Armon."

"If that is your wish, my prince," the one-armed guardian replied. Carefully he lowered the boy from where he had been perched on the mummy's broad shoulders, noting as he did so how many branches threatened to strike the prince in the face.

"But thanks for the ride, even if you didn't tell me to duck that one time…"

"Does your nose still hurt, Rapses?" Nefertina asked sympathetically.

"Nah. I don't stay hurt long, you know." The double meaning of Presley's words was not lost on anyone.

The past two hours of trekking through the jungle had been about as everyone had expected: boring and treacherous. Though there were few large beasts that could threaten the party in this part of the forest, snakes and bugs abounded, most of which would kill the boys without even meaning to. After the second scare by a ground-snake, Armon had insisted on hoisting his still-limping prince to his broad shoulders for safety; then he had promptly bashed said prince's face into a low tree branch. Nefertina, at the end of the line, caught more than one bow nearly in the chest or head as the one-armed guardian frequently forgot to hold the limbs he drew away from Presley for his teammate behind. Max also got the piggy-back ride he had been begging Norman for, but Virgil had to stump along between the hulking guardians, grumbling to Rath all the way.

At the head of the procession, Ja-Kal was silent, ostensibly focusing on tracking their position and watching for any possible threats. And, indeed, he spent a great deal of effort listening to the jungle and preparing himself for any danger at any moment. It was a relief from the quiet torment inside. The parting words of the goddess seemed to bounce through and around his head, reverberating within like the crash of a gong. No matter how often Ja-Kal turned his ears and his thoughts to the brush around him, her advice filled the silences between the sounds of the forest.

"Is this where I have been wrong?" the falcon asked himself again and again. "Is it perhaps not such a betrayal to feel more than obligation towards a prince? But I already gave my heart away to a family I loved and still love. How can I share what has already been claimed?"

The cry of a lone bird stole his attention for a moment. It reminded him of something, but he could not place what creature he had ever heard make such a sad but musical sound. As he clambered gracefully over a large mess of vines and brush, absently lending a hand to whoever was behind him, Ja-Kal's thoughts drifted inward again.

"There is no denying my feelings for the boy, really. Ma'at was right about that – my heart does care for him as if he were my own. Presley needs a father, and in the absence of any other, I unwittingly gave myself to stand as a surrogate. But I always believed it was wrong to allow such feeling to grow; not only were those emotions banned by custom, but by my own sense of honor. What servant could presume to love the son of the pharaoh? And what father should love one other than his son? The eagle mates for life. I would not take another woman in Tia's place; how can I take another son in Padjet's?"

There was no good solution that the falcon could find, not one that eased his guilt either way. Ja-Kal felt trapped; if he kept his heart for his lost family, he betrayed his prince, a boy whom he did care for deeply. But if he allowed those feelings to spill from his otherwise-closed heart, he betrayed his family. No answer seemed fair. Ma'at had made it quite clear that the mummies' leader had one chance to find an honest balance in his heart, but try as he might, he could not reconcile his competing feelings of shame.

"Virg, how much farther? And what is a divided mountain, anyway?" Max asked, breaking into Ja-Kal's thoughts and disturbing the otherwise quiet party. Norman stopped moving and the Mighty One slid off his back. Everyone else ceased walking as well, gathering around the Lemurian as he cleared his throat purposefully.

"Well, according to my calculations, we are approximately a mile from the base of the mountain itself. However, given the lateness of the hour," and at once everyone realized it was truly sunset and would be dark soon, "I believe it would be wiser to wait to scale the crag itself tomorrow. The climb could prove quite challenging."

"Great. A night in the jungle. This was not in the brochure," Presley grumbled good-naturedly. His spirits had finally returned in full, and his body appeared to have mostly recovered as well. The prince was finally starting to look and act like himself again.

"Isn't that rather risky? I mean, there are wild animals in this area, are there not?" Rath pointed out.

"Indeed," Virgil replied nonchalantly, "but I do not believe we will pose any threat to them, so logically, neither shall they threaten us. A night in the forest will not harm the boys."

"Nah. They're tough," Armon winked. Max and Presley both grinned in response.

"But what about this divided mountain?" Nefertina pressed. "What is it and how do you know which one it is?"

"If we are speaking of the same peak I believe we are," Rath began, "then it's true name is not 'divided,' but rather 'cracked' or 'broken.' Legend says this mountain was once whole, but a great blow from the gods shattered it, leaving it quite strangely shaped. They say it is a place of great sadness, though the records are not clear as to why."

"Indeed," Virgil concurred. "What we should find here is a mountain that appears to have been cloven in two. Allow us to demonstrate."

Rath suddenly appeared beside the ancient fowl with a large rock in his hands. He set it down on the ground in such a way that it did resemble a mountain complete with a peak sticking up. Then Virgil gestured to Norman, whispered something only the Viking could hear, and stepped back.

"Yah!" Norman grunted as he unexpectedly brought his sword down on the rock. The blow was perfectly struck at the peak, causing the rock to split in half down an unseen fault. But instead of cleaving it in two, the crack stopped partway down, instead breaking laterally. When Norman withdrew his sword, a section came away, leaving the base of the rock intact, but with only half the top.

"It looks like the food pyramid with only half the good stuff on top and no vegetables!" Max laughed.

"Why would one build a pyramid out of food?" Ja-Kal asked, curious about such a strange idea and the stranger image it conjured in his mind.

"They don't…er…never mind," Presley sighed. Some things were never going to make sense to his Egyptian friends.

"Well struck, Norman," approved Virgil. "That is a perfect illustration of what the mountain looks like. And I believe we shall find what we seek…here." The fowl jabbed one of his feathered fingers at the rock, indicating the point on the flat part where it met the remaining peak.

"But not until morning," Ja-Kal nodded, looking up at what they could see of the sky through the trees. "Let us find a secure location to spend the night and make the appropriate preparations. The hawk does not build its nest in a darkened cave."

 

-==OOO==-

 

After about another half-hour of stumbling through the increasingly-dark forest, the group finally came to a steep, rocky embankment, which disappeared upwards into the encroaching night sky. After confirming that this was the mountain they sought, the party quickly split up to find a place to take shelter until morning. It was Max's keen eyes and uncanny luck that spotted a shallow cave in the rocks which was, thankfully, uninhabited even by the hawks of Ja-Kal's proverb.

"Come on, Normie," Max grinned at his Guardian once their abode had been decided. The two shared a smirk with Virgil, then went crashing off into the jungle on their own.

"Where are they going?" Presley asked the Lemurian.

"It's become rather a…tradition, I suppose, for Norman to teach Max how to track prey and live off the land when we are in such a situation as this, while I am left behind to fashion a campsite. They will return with something to eat, I'm sure. My interest in forest survival techniques is minimal, as I am not well-equipped to execute them. My fingers are not suited to weaponry, as you may have noticed."

"My prince? Would you like to hunt with them as well?" Ja-Kal asked hesitantly. He tried not to imagine the Lemurian with a bow and arrows – it was a frightening image.

"No," replied the dark-haired boy after a moment of thought. "I'd rather have you teach me anyway, but right now I'd really like to sit down. I think Max is more used to walking than I am, no matter what he says."

"Very well. Then I shall stand guard here. Rath, Nefertina, gather materials to make beds for everyone, as well as water for us all. Armon, you will see if you can find something to serve as a door for the night. We will leave the food-gathering to the Mighty One." Orders given, the mummies scattered to their work. As Presley eased himself to a rocky outcropping next to the mouth of the cave, Virgil puttered around a bare spot nearby. But before anyone could ask what the Lemurian was doing, a fire appeared under his hands.

"I could have done that," Ja-Kal remarked mildly.

"There would be no purpose in your wasting your energy transforming and using a fire-arrow for what I could do on my own, although I'm certain you could light it just as well unaided," Virgil returned. "But," and his voice turned rather smug, "it's the one thing I can do for the camp before the Cap-Bearer and Norman return." Then, after casting a sly glance at the falcon and his prince, Virgil made some vague, incomprehensible comment about studying the back of the cave and disappeared inward. For the first time since everything had happened, Ja-Kal and Presley were alone.

"So…" the boy began, feeling the sudden weight of a hundred things to say building around them.

"My prince," his guardian interrupted. "There is something I must tell you."

"What is it, Ja-Kal?" Though Presley asked the question lightly, there was trepidation in his heart.

"I…have never been more proud to serve you." The words hung in the air between them for a few heartbeats. The night was rapidly cooling, and the air smelled of rock and water, with spicy hints of the unfamiliar flora around them.

"Why?"

"Because what you did for me is beyond anything I could ever have asked of you." Now the words rushed out before the falcon could stop them. "It was my failure, my weakness, and you took it all on yourself. What were you thinking? How could you ever believe that my well-being was more important than yours? You could have been killed!" The suddenness of Ja-Kal's fear and anger caught them both off guard.

"Ma'at said it wouldn't," Presley replied softly.

"But you suffered needless pain that should have been mine to bear!"

"Ja-Kal, if I hadn't done it, you'd be burning forever or something, and we would never see you again. Is that better? Don't you think that would have hurt, too, and for way longer?" the prince demanded. Ja-Kal could not have been stopped in his tracks more effectively if he had been run over by the Hot-Ra at full speed.

"I…didn't really think about that."

"Look," he breathed, "I did what I had to do. I've been learning a lot from you, and now from Max, about what duty really means. I couldn't let you down any more than you could have if it were me. It was a no-win situation, so I picked the least of the bad options. At least this way the pain was temporary. And you would have done the same for me or any of the others."

Presley's green eyes were begging Ja-Kal to accept his decision. There was something else in them, something more the boy was asking that the mummy could not quite identify, and it both chilled and warmed him to the bone.

"You made the true warrior's choice, my prince," the falcon finally said. "And while I cannot be grateful that you took pain in my stead, I am very proud of you nonetheless. You showed great courage, and also a sincere understanding of responsibility. I think I am now seeing the man I always hoped you could be as it is beginning to shine through the person you are now." And his eyes were bright with praise.

"Thanks, I think. Uh…Ja-Kal?" Presley began. He intended to ask his mentor about the hidden feelings Ma'at had spoken of, the very same he could now sense were warring inside them both. But before he could quite get himself collected enough to phrase the questions aloud, a great crashing through the nearby trees broke the moment.

"It's just me, Ja-Kal!" came Armon's voice from behind a very large log before the wary hunter could become too alarmed. "I've got a door."

"Oh. Excellent. Set it aside for now," the falcon-avatar gestured to a clear place not too near the fire. "You were saying, Presley?"

"Never mind. We can go into it later."

 

-==OOO==-

 

"Wait until you're sure…timing, not speed…you'll know when it's right…" Norman recited quietly.

"You always say that," Max shivered, "and I still haven't gotten it yet."

"You will," the gruff warrior said in an almost soothing tone. "Don't think like Virgil. Rely on your own instincts."

Max considered a spiteful comeback, but decided against it. After all, the more he argued with his Guardian, the longer he would be standing up to his thighs in the cold creek, arms underwater. Norman had decided that fishing would be the day's lesson, given that most of the wild game in the immediate area was either endangered or dangerous to consume. And, as the great Viking believed in knowing how to survive in the worst possible conditions, it meant fishing with neither net nor rod. The Mighty One's only consolation was that if he really, honestly could not catch any fish, Norman would ensure the group did not go hungry, but only after a truly exhaustive effort on his part.

"Here, fishy fishy fishy," Max chanted half-heartedly. To his surprise, a moment later he felt a very large and scaly form brush past his wrist. He lunged, only to lose his balance and dunk his face in the icy water.

"Don't wait for the fish. Anticipate it," Norman commented as he watched his boy get back into position.

"I don't know about you, big guy, but I don't speak gill."

"So?"

"So how am I supposed to know it's coming?" It was an old discussion, one they had had many times.

"The same way you know everything else, Mighty One. Your instincts are better than any warrior I have ever known, but you only extend them on the field of battle. You must learn to trust them in all places." At the frustrated look on his boy's face, the Viking relented. Moving so lithely he barely disturbed the water, Norman lowered himself from the embankment to stand beside Max.

"Like this." Perfectly still for a heartbeat, the Viking's enormous hands flashed into the water, drawing up an angry fish that thrashed and quivered in his grip. With a move reminiscent of the discus-toss, he easily lobbed the soon-to-be-meal onto the riverbank where it quivered and died.

"I'm never going to get this, Normie! Why can't we just call me a fisher-failure and go back to letting you do all the hunting?" But no amount of pleading would change his Guardian's mind.

An hour later and soaked to the skin, Max was near the end of his fuse. Norman had demonstrated again and again, resulting in quite the catch of fish piled on the bank. Max was cold and irritated and hungry and it was really night now. How could he be expected to catch fish in the dark? His stomach chorused loudly enough to reverberate in the rock-basin of the little river.

"Normie, I'm never, ever going to…" but his voice cut off as he felt himself reaching through the water, without even knowing he was going to do it. To Max's supreme shock and glee, a fat fish was clasped tightly in his numb grasp.

"You see? Stop thinking and act on instinct. Or hunger. Whatever works." Norman smiled slyly, then took the fish from his friend's cold hands before he dropped the all-precious catch.

"Yeah, thanks. Are we done yet?" the Cap-Bearer asked, barely suppressing a shudder.

"For now." The Guardian was out of the water and halfway up the bank before Max had even found his footing on the slippery river-bottom. As he stumbled onto thankfully dry land, Norman was busy gathering the fish up in an improvised net made of several very large, thick fern leaves. The speed with which he lashed the whole thing together spoke of generations upon generations of years of practice. By the time Max had pulled on his wonderfully dry socks and shoes, the Viking was already waiting for him, seemingly unaware of his own soggy boots.

"Hey Normie?" Max asked as they began the short hike back to the cave.

"Yes, Mighty One?"

"Um…I saw your test, you know." The Mighty One had a lot of practice with round-about conversations with his Guardian, and he kept his voice easily light. "We saw everybody's."

Norman grunted in response.

"Did…did you see mine, too?"

"No, Mighty One."

"Oh. Good."

That got a raised eyebrow, and Norman slowed his pace almost imperceptibly. Max thrust his hands into his damp pockets and his shoulders hunched just slightly, but he did not volunteer anything else. The Guardian sighed inwardly; his boy needed to talk, and had chosen him, instead of Virgil, for that counsel. Really, the Lemurian was better suited to this sort of thing. Norman would always be there for Max, but he felt that sometimes his straightforward and matter-of-fact perspective didn't quite answer Max's nuanced troubles adequately.

"What troubles you about it?" Norman finally asked, earning a face unusually tight with consternation from the Cap-Bearer.

"I don't know, Norm. I shouldn't even be bothered, right? I mean, I passed. And look what Presley had to go through! So it should just be over. Right?" There was a hint of exasperation in Max's voice, a frustration with himself.

"If it bothers you, it bothers you," was the Viking's simple answer.

"I just feel bad about it," Max sighed, his gaze firmly upon his sneakers. "It…there was a lot that happened, but at the end of it Ma'at showed me that I'm kind of a jerk."

"You're not a jerk."

"I am a jerk! I shouldn't get upset that being the Mighty One cuts into my fun so much. I mean, it's destiny, and we both know how important it is for me to save the world. I shouldn't resent the duty of it anymore. But I do." The words came out in a rush.

Max stopped walking entirely, Norman a step beside him, and sighed. The boy managed to settle his gaze somewhere around his Guardian's mid-stomach, his shoulders still slouched. Norman waited.

"You and Virg have been through a million times what I have, and you don't resent it, the whole saving-the-world-from-whatever-monster-pops-up-this-week gig. I shouldn't either. I mean, that's the problem with Ja-Kal, isn't it? That he hates his duty so much that he's lost sight of everything that matters? I don't want to end up like that. I'd rather be okay with it, the way you guys are. But I'm not. I mean, there's some good stuff in what we do, but it isn't what I want."

"And what do you want?"

"To be me, a kid! To slack off and go to the arcade and get detention. To…I don't know, to have the hardest decision I have to make be what movie to watch on a Friday night," the Cap-Bearer said through a strained attempt at keeping his composure. "I want to choose my life, and not have it chosen for me."

"What would you choose?"

"What?" The Mighty One looked up confusedly into a face shadowed in the darkness of the fallen night. Norman's expression was lost, but his eyes glittered in the pale starlight.

"What would you choose? If you had the right to decide your destiny on your own?"

"I…don't know." It was true. The Cap-Bearer had always been so sure that what he wanted was a life of normalcy, but Norman's question demanded a better answer than that.

"Think about it," the Guardian remarked as he began to walk again. "Because I'd bet, if you give yourself a chance, you might choose this anyway."

"Is it really worth it?" Max wanted to know after a few seconds of silence walking through the dark trees once more. Norman took a long look at his boy, his mind flashing over countless adventures at his side, and remembering another eager, frustrated, and deeply shamed Viking boy that had dwelled on the same question for a thousand years.

"Yeah."


	17. Obligations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nope, still don't own them. But that doesn't keep me from loving them. Don't sue me for it, okay?
> 
> Enjoy!

"You know," Max grunted as he hauled Virgil up the last few feet to the plateau the small band had been aiming for all morning, "when it comes to climbing, swimming, running, and fighting, you're kinda useless, Virg."

"Thank you, Mighty One, for that analysis." The ancient fowl's voice was prim with reproach.

"I will say, though," Nefertina commented grinningly as she made the end of the long and difficult climb look downright easy, "it'd be a lot more helpful if you were a monkey instead of a chicken. At least they can climb."

"I am not a chicken! I am a fowl, actually."

"Well, I don't care what he is. Monkeys remind me of Babi. I wonder whatever happened to him anyway," Armon muttered as he groaned. One-armed climbing, even with the assistance of Rath and Ja-Kal pulling on his bandage-ropes from above, was no easy feat. The mummies had decided to make the ascent untransformed, to save their strength in case they needed it later.

"Yeah, where'd he go?" Presley wanted to know. Max and Presley had both been aided in the climb by Norman and Ja-Kal, and had turned their hands to aiding their less-agile friends.

"I would conjecture," Rath panted as he finished hauling Armon's bulk up the side of the mountain and gratefully stretched his fingers, "that upon realizing that they could not follow us into Ma'at's realm, Babi and Skullmaster probably set a course southwards, in an attempt to cut us off before we reached this place."

"You mean they're coming here?" Ja-Kal turned his keen eyes to the horizon.

"Makes sense," Norman grunted.

"Even taking the night to rest, we should still be several hours ahead of them, given the distance they must walk overland," Virgil replied calmly. "But we will deal with them in good time. For now, we have arrived."

He pointed a feathered finger across the wide, flat rock to an obelisk carved into the sheer cliff-face where the mountain continued to rise at the edge of the plateau. It was easily ten stories high, and at least four yards wide all the way up. Carvings, some enormous and some tiny, covered the space right to the edge where living rock took over.

"Wow! I wish Mom could see this!" Max said as he led the group to its base. Virgil and Rath pushed to the front of the otherwise staring heroes to examine the markings near the bottom of the immense construct. A few moments of awed quiet passed as the scholars carefully worked their way through the ancient writing, then there was a sudden, sharp gasp.

"Rath, what is it?" Ja-Kal demanded as Rath turned to him. He was, if possible, paler than usual. Virgil sighed and turned as well, his eyes downcast.

"This is the mountain we have been seeking where the goddess will rise," Rath began, "but there was something left out of the prophecy regarding what is needed to wake Ma'at. I should have known there would be a final price. She said as much." He fell silent.

"Virg?" Max asked, anxiety twisting inside. Instinctively, he knew whatever was coming next was going to be bad.

"Mighty One," Virgil said with genuine sadness, "there is a great cost required from you. And you, young Prince Rapses. You see, Skullmaster and Scarab could raise Babi without any great sacrifice to themselves, because it is always easier to unleash evil than good on the world; the evil desires power whereas the good demands worthiness. Look, there is another prophecy:

> _"When the sun has set on the kingdom of Egypt,_   
> _And the world has passed from child to man,_   
> _Parallel darknesses will summon the bringer of destruction._
> 
> _"The pharaoh must rise to defeat this evil_   
> _With the aid of one who is from afar,_   
> _Both together are unmatched heroes._
> 
> _"But to call on me requires their hearts be willing;_   
> _I demand their fates and their gifts,_   
> _For anything less is unworthy of kings."_

"So what does that mean?" Presley asked, heart pounding. He absolutely hated prophecies; they always landed him in trouble. And this one sounded worse than most.

"It means, my prince, that in order to call Ma'at to our aid, to save the world, you and the Mighty One must be willing to sacrifice yourselves," Rath said, and there was a hollow sound to his voice that neither boy had ever heard before.

"Not your lives," Virgil said quickly, "but something perhaps far dearer. You," he said, pointing at Presley, "must surrender the eternal soul of Rapses that lies within you. And you, Mighty One, must give up your power and destiny as well. You must both relinquish your heroic aspects, as it were."

"And it isn't that simple," Rath said, his voice sounding worse than ever. He looked at his prince, and past him, to his friends of thousands of years before. "The Cap-Bearer's cap will continue to work, even when he loses the mark of destiny that is within him, although what will happen to his world remains to be seen. But should you sacrifice your eternal soul, Presley, then we must die again, for that which binds us to earth would be gone."

"What?" Presley exclaimed.

"It is your choice, young prince," Virgil took over as Rath met Ja-Kal's eyes in silence. "As it is yours, Mighty One. But know that it is not just your heroism you will lose, Cap-Bearer, but also your ability to transcend dimensions. Should you choose to wake Ma'at, you will never be able to go home, and there will be none who can rise to kill Skullmaster."

Both boys stood, staring at their respective mentors in open-mouthed silence. Then Ja-Kal stepped forward.

"My prince, come speak to us alone a moment," he said, drawing his boy back towards the others a few steps behind. Rath moved and they formed a small circle. Norman shifted himself forward to make a little clump with Max and Virgil as well.

"I don't want you to die!" Presley exploded, his eyes wide as he looked around at his friends.

"We know," Nefertina said sadly.

"We don't want to leave you alone, either," mumbled Armon.

"But that is the choice you must make." Ja-Kal stepped forward and put both hands on Presley's shoulders. "My prince," and then he took a knee before the boy and looked intently into his green eyes, "Presley, it is your obligation to choose, and to act on your choice. You are the one gifted with this, and it is your right and your duty."

"But how I can I choose between you and saving the world?" Presley demanded. "I promised you I would never let you down!"

As the boy grit his teeth against the waves of dread that were threatening to overwhelm him, Ja-Kal found himself thinking fast, and with the skill of a true hunter, analyzed the situation. If Presley surrendered the spirit of Rapses, it would mean he and the other mummies would cross over to their afterlife. It would put the boy forever beyond the reach of both Scarab and Babi, neither of whom would have any reason to harm him. And…Ja-Kal might see Tia again. But more than anything else, Presley's selfless act of saving the falcon's immortal soul from Ma'at's justice had reminded them both that duty, not one's desires, must dictate their choices now.

"And you won't," Ja-Kal said gently. "Listen to me. Right now, Babi is out there destroying everything in his path, terrorizing people. You and the Mighty One are the only ones who can stop it. I know what it means for us, but think of all those other innocent people who are in danger. You are the one who showed us how important it is to serve and defend the helpless. The lion must protect his pride from wolves, even if it means risking his mane in their teeth."

"You want me to choose to let you die," Presley said, his voice breaking.

"Yes, I do. But I will not choose for you. If you refuse the sacrifice, we will stand with you and protect you to the very end. But I don't think any of us will survive that, either."

"Can't we think about this for a while? Can't we try to find another way?"

"No, Presley," Rath said regretfully, "we must act now. You know that."

Presley looked at his feet and fought back tears. Sure he had longed to be a normal kid again, to get some space from his over-protective friends, but not like this! He had been learning so much about duty and responsibility, had even endured excruciating pain, and for what? To find that these lessons would be completely and totally in vain? The heartbreak of the perilous journey to this place had drawn his guardians closer to him, not just protectively, but genuinely. And now he had to choose between his friends and the world. He stole a glance at Max, talking to his own companions. The blonde boy seemed upset as well.

"What do you think he will choose?" he asked, almost pleadingly.

"You cannot choose, or fail to choose, based on the Mighty One," Rath said. "Among other things, it is unworthy of you to rely on another for this decision."

"But I can't! I can't do this! I never wanted this!" he said, feeling that circumstances were spiraling out of his control faster than he could cope. The mummies looked at him quietly. Presley closed his eyes and tried to force his heart to decide.

-==OOO==-

 

"It's worse for him, isn't it?" Max asked, hearing Presley's outburst from the short distance. He looked sympathetically over at his counterpart and could see the rise and fall of his chest as he tried to hold everything inside. The Cap-Bearer turned back, heart heavy.

"It's bad for you, too, Mighty One. He doesn't really know what's being asked of you," Norman said as gently as he ever said anything.

"You're not going to die," the boy pointed out.

"True," inserted Virgil, "but you must sacrifice your world for this one, as well as your life there. If you accept this duty, none of us can get home to fight Skullmaster."

"Isn't that kind of stupid, though? I mean, why would it be my destiny to…you know, give up my destiny?" He felt a horrible guilt settling on him; how could he choose to save one world and condemn another?

"Because it is a measure of your valor. You are one of a very few heroes who is worthy to balance the fates of two different worlds. In a certain sense, it's an honor."

"Yeah, some honor this is. Right up there with the honor of summer school. And why can't I go home?" Max demanded, a touch of pain creeping into his voice as the faces of his mother, Bea, and Felix flew through his mind. He couldn't imagine living the rest of his life without the home he had always known, even if he got to keep Virgil and Norman. And giving up heroism, giving up that feeling of making a difference, that high of knowing he could do anything, hurt more than he could admit.

"Mighty One, it is your choice," Virgil said firmly.

"Yeah, talk about making choices," the Mighty One said bitterly. "First I gotta decide whether or not I want this whole destiny thing, and then, once I really start thinking that choosing it might not be so bad, I get hit with this! What, do I have a giant make-Max-decide-hard-stuff target on my back?"

Norman met his boy's eye and held it firmly. After sputtering for a few more moments, Max felt himself grow calm under that gaze. Though no more relieved, something about his Guardian's wordless, encompassing understanding and acceptance of the situation steadied him.

"All right, I guess I get it. But what will happen to you guys if I, you know, go through with this?" He felt himself lose an inch or two in height as something very cold and hard settled in his middle. Regret.

"We will follow you on this, as on everything. And," Virgil said, his voice growing quite soft, "even if you sacrifice that which makes you the Mighty One, we will stay by your side anyway."

"You bet," Norman nodded.

"But why?" Max asked, touched. He remembered when there had been some question as to whether or not he really was the Mighty One, when Skullmaster had planted that fake Max to try to replace him. Virgil hadn't been shy about letting him know that if they were wrong about him they would have to abandon him for the other Max back then.

"Because in this world there will be no other Mighty One who needs us; we will be free to choose our paths as we have not been for five thousand years. And I am certain we would both choose to remain with you. Besides," and there was sorrow in his tone, "I believe Presley will need us."

Max turned again, following his mentor's gaze, to where the boy-prince stood with his mummies. His shoulders drooped low and he was shaking. In one swift movement, Ja-Kal reached forward and pulled the prince into his arms, and the others gathered around, embracing their friend.

-==OOO==-

 

"Presley, I am as proud of you as if you were my own son. It breaks my heart to leave you," Ja-Kal said quietly, holding his boy tightly. There was so much more he wanted to tell his young ward, so much in his heart that threatened to overwhelm him. Even as Ja-Kal felt his throat constrict with emotion, Ma'at's words came back to him. But his heart failed him, and the falcon could only speak through the force of his comforting arms.

"I don't know how to say goodbye." Presley clung to man who was so much, willing himself not to cry and failing utterly.

"Then don't," said Nefertina, her tears falling freely as she squeezed his shoulder. "You'll join us beyond the Western Gate someday. I know you will."

"It's been our honor, Presley, knowing you and serving you. You've…you've been the best pupil I've ever had," Rath whispered with intense sorrow. "I could not have wanted more from a son of my own."

"I…I don't know what I'll do without you, all of you."

"You'll grow up big and strong, and you'll be a great warrior, greater than anyone ever," Armon said, his usually joyful smile turned into a face wet and drawn.

Presley reached out and clung to his guardians, burying his head in Ja-Kal's warm, scratchy shoulder. He had no idea how long he held onto them, his heart begging him to change his mind. But the hero within him, not the soul of Prince Rapses, but rather the hero Presley had always been, called him to order. Even though he never wanted the embrace to end, he eventually straightened his shoulders and looked Ja-Kal in the eye. The pride and unspoken affection that shone back at him empowered him enough to speak again.

"Come on. It's time." His voice barely shook when he said it, and for that, he was grateful. Presley extricated himself from the arms of his friends and turned. Max already stood beside the obelisk, his face pale, but set.

"I'll go first, if you want," the Mighty One offered, his heart pounding. Somehow, even the pain of never going home, even the knowledge that he might never be able to save his own world, did not compare to the suffering before him of one losing his best friends. Not yet, anyway; the Cap-Bearer felt sure it would hurt far more when reality hit home. At Presley's wordless nod, he stepped forward, courage in hand.

At the base of the carvings, just below the prophecy, there were two clear symbols that Max instinctively understood were meant for this rite, for himself and Presley specifically. His was a mark he recognized from an adventure in Egypt with his mother some time ago: a figure wearing an Egyptian crown with an "M" on it. Beneath that was an unadorned circle. Taking a deep breath, his hero's heart guiding him for what might be the last time, he pressed his right hand against the circle, flattening out his fingers and holding his palm against the smooth stone.

At first nothing happened. Then Max felt an incredibly painful sensation dance through his body, as though his bones were on fire. A gold and red light sparkled before his eyes and he realized he was shouting through the burning ache. The boy desperately wanted to pull away, but somehow he managed to hold still in spite of the agony. Then, as quickly as it had started, the pain ebbed to nothing. He felt his knees buckle and dropped limply to the ground, hand still tingling.

"Max! Are you all right?" Norman demanded, rushing forward. Even as the boy nodded, the Cap-Bearer felt the use of his bare name, and it struck deeper than everything he had just experienced physically. He was no longer the Mighty One. Norman gently gave him an arm and pulled him to his feet. As he stood, he saw that the inscriptions on the obelisk were beginning to shine, glowing a deep red.

"Fine," he muttered even as his Viking friend, a Guardian no more, led him from the spot. Max gazed at the strange, misty light that pulsed inside the very rock, then turned his eyes from the stone to Presley. Pale himself, tears evident on his face, the darker boy stepped forward, his shoulders still bent. His sorrow wrenched his facial expressions and his breathing was raspy, but there was a glitter of something in his green eyes, something proud and sure, and terribly, terribly lonely. When he stood opposite the obelisk, staring at the symbol he knew spoke a name he carried within, he turned back, eyes shot-red and burning.

"I…I'll never forget you. You've been…," he began, as the mummies gathered close together. But there was no way to end the sentence; nothing could explain what he felt. The boy-prince hesitated, suddenly afraid to follow through with this horrible chosen duty.

"My prince," said Ja-Kal formally, seeing into the moment of doubt and dropping to one knee, bending his head to hide his tears. The others knelt as well, faces turned downward. "We have gone with you through everything. Let us do this together with you, if we may."

"Together," Presley mumbled around tears in his throat. He nodded. The four mummies rose and gathered behind him. Ja-Kal put a hand on Presley's right shoulder and Rath put one on his left. Armon reached his single arm to touch Presley's back between his shoulder-blades. Nefertina took his left hand and squeezed it. He looked up and behind him at all their wet faces, his heart breaking. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," answered Ja-Kal sadly. "Take care of him, Guardian," he called over his shoulder, pinning Norman with a gaze of steel. The roguish warrior, still supporting his own boy, nodded solemnly. Ja-Kal turned back, voice tightly controlled. "Until we meet again, beyond the Western Gate, my prince, my friend."

"Goodbye," whispered the young prince, agony seeping through his every breath.

With a wordless cry of love and loss, pain and duty, Presley flung his right hand against the stone of the obelisk. The hurt that ratcheted its way up his arm was nothing to the void in his heart. Behind him, he could hear his friends shouting as a white and yellow light overwhelmed him. Then, almost too soon, it was over. Leaning against the warm stone for support, Presley turned, feeling suddenly that his body didn't fit as well as it had a moment prior. He knew without looking, but he had to see for himself.

The mummies were gone. There was nothing left: no bodies, no dust. It was as if they had never been but for the burden in his heart and the memories that tugged at his resolve.

"So…now what?" asked Max, breaking an endless silence. The boy took a deep breath and gathered his legs under him, though he still felt wobbly. He could not take his eyes off Presley, who leaned as though he could not bear to stand and whose tears flowed uninhibited down his face.

"Now we wait," Virgil intoned, his own voice rough with something suspiciously like grief of his own. "Ma'at should rise sometime between now and dawn tomorrow."

"Why does it take so long?"

"It's just one of those quirks of destiny, Max."

Cringing inwardly again at the use of his bare name, Max slowly crossed the distance between himself and Presley. A wetness pricked at his eyes, but whether it was for his own pain for that of his friend, he could not tell.

"Hey, Pres, come on," he said, holding out a hand. "Let's get away from here for a bit." His normal voice was toned down, deep with regret and sympathy.

"I wish…" began Presley, but he could not finish whatever he had been about to say. He took Max's hand and squeezed it, allowing the former Mighty One to put an arm across his shaking shoulders. Together, they mourned.

"Max, Presley, we should move away from here," Virgil said after another long while. He and Norman moved to their side. "There's no telling what might occur in the meantime while we're waiting."

"Yeah," Norman remarked, sounding almost like himself, "this would be a perfect place for an ambush."

No sooner had those prophetic words left Norman's mouth than the sound of something large moving in the distance reached them. The Viking whirled, looking out at the plateau. At the edge, the same they had scaled not so long before, was a gathering mass of something.

"Shabties," Virgil breathed in alarm. "Babi must have sent them here ahead of him to stop us. They're too late, though."

"That won't stop them from trying to kill us," Max pointed out.

"No, but I will," Norman grunted, moving forward to attack position. There was a swarm of the rock-beings now, rapidly advancing on their position. The ex-Guardian drew his sword and prepared to protect his friends against an immense number of mindless opponents.

"Who cares?" Presley mumbled, face dark. "Just let them come. What good are we now?"

For a moment, the ex-prince's words turned Max's heart cold. It seemed so hopeless, so meaningless to care now what would happen next. They had given everything they had; there was nothing left for Scarab or Skullmaster or Babi to take from them now. But, stubbornly, some part of the ex-Mighty One's heart refused to buckle under that thinking. He had faced the end of the world many times, had overcome evils far greater and more powerful than himself, had saved people's lives and had been saved countless times. Was this how it was meant to end? Here, on a desolate mountain in another world, the last beats of his heart spent in despair?

"No," the boy said to himself, and he felt his resolve gather around him as powerfully as any portal or magic ever had. "I never let evil beat me before. I won't let pain beat me now." His body snapped back to itself and he met Presley's eyes defiantly.

"We can still fight! We have to make this worth it somehow!" Max said desperately. "Even if there's nothing we can do, even if my destiny is gone and so are your friends, we can't not fight!"

"Why not?" Presley demanded, shaking off Max's comforting arm.

"Because even without all that stuff, we're still heroes! Both of us! No matter what happens, we'll always be heroes. It's what we do. It's who we are. I may not be the Mighty One, but I'm still technically the Cap-Bearer. And if I'm going down, then I'm going down fighting!"

With that, and a great yell, Max leapt from his place at the obelisk and raced to Norman's side.

"You shouldn't, Max," Norman said under his breath, even as he gauged the oncoming enemies.

"I know, Normie. But a hero's gotta do what a hero's gotta do, right?"

"Right."

 

-==OOO==-

 

Ja-Kal opened his eyes slowly, fearing what he might see. The pain that had passed from Presley into him had been impressive, but had ended quite suddenly. However, with his eyes open and fully comprehending at last, his heart, sore at the loss of his boy, gave a leap from sorrow into extraordinary bliss.

"Welcome home, husband," Tia said, moving gracefully to his side.

"Tia!" he cried, voice alight with joy. "Oh, Tia, how I've missed you!" Ja-Kal threw his arms around his long-dead wife and held her close. In doing so, he found that instead of the dry skin of death and wrappings, he was once again whole flesh, dressed as he had been that last day in Egypt. Unbridled happiness washed over him, and for what seemed like forever, he embraced her.

Something strange was happening to the falcon. It was as though more than just his flesh had been restored; indeed, he felt whole in ways he had not known he was incomplete. An anxiousness that had long lived behind his eyes, a weight that constricted his chest, a sharpness in the back of his throat, all of these things had vanished as suddenly as his duty. For the first time in thousands of years, Ja-Kal felt himself to be the man he had once been, his heart and soul relieved of their ancient anguish.

"I have missed you, husband," Tia said in her beautiful voice. She looked not a day older from when he had last seen her.

"And I you, my love. And our son. What of Padjet?" Ja-Kal asked after he felt he had held her forever. She smiled.

"He grew up strong as his father and became a skilled hunter in his own right. He was a great honor to you, Ja-Kal."

"But where is he now?" Ja-Kal knew he was beyond the Western Gate, and so should be his son. The metaphysics of it all drifted from his mind as he settled happily into his eternity.

"Waiting for you out there," Tia said, gesturing. Ja-Kal noticed his surroundings for the first time. They were not in the small chambers provided by the pharaoh back in Egypt, but rather a breezy stone cottage with a view of the Nile. As he strained his eyes, he could see a man's figure sitting on the bank. "Will you go to him?"

"In a minute, love. First I want to see you." Ja-Kal stared at his wife, then. Unlike she, who had lived a mortal life and died and passed on, he and the other three guardians had been bound to a sort of sleep, waiting for their service to be absolved by a spirit they had failed. He had spent a millennia in half-conscious darkness, unable to reach his afterlife, until now.

"We will have forever, Ja-Kal. There's no need to worry that I'll disappear if you leave me for a moment." And there was a sad smile behind her voice.

"I know, Tia, I know." But he held her anyway and felt that his heart would burst.

 

-==OOO==-

 

Watching Max brace himself for a fight he could not hope to win, especially as the blonde boy was entirely unarmed, Presley turned to Virgil in distress.

"What does he think he's doing?"

"The Might-uh, well, Max has always had a spirit more indomitable than the ocean," Virgil said, catching himself. It was strange to the ancient fowl to hold such respect, such reverence for one who was now only a boy, a hero no longer. "I imagine he still wishes to be what he is not, to fight as he once did."

"You don't think he's a hero anymore?" Presley asked incredulously.

"I…am not sure. There are heroes in everyday people, it's true, but is Max a hero still even when the gift of heroism that has always defined him is gone?" The Lemurian's voice was low.

"If anybody could still be a hero," Presley mumbled, beginning to see beyond the black haze of his loss, "it would be Max."

"I believe you are correct. And," Virgil began, a sudden determination growing as he snapped his beak up defiantly, "if that is the case, then I will join him. After all, a hero will always need a guide."

The fowl began to move towards where Norman and Max were rapidly conversing, but stopped after only a few steps. He turned back to the darker boy.

"Are you coming?"

"Me?"

"It's your choice," Virgil shrugged. "You were a hero, too. Don't you want to try to be one again?"

"I'm…not sure anymore," the ex-prince sighed, hanging his head. "It hurts."

"Then remain here. And run if we fail." With those matter-of-fact words, the scholarly mentor moved to join his two friends with a rushed sort of solid confidence.

"Better late than never, Virgil," Norman said, a quirk in one eyebrow as the fowl joined them in the open space away from the obelisk.

"As I said before," he turned away from the former-Guardian and faced Max, "we will stand with you."

"I know, guys. Is Pres going to be okay?" Max asked, glancing back at his friend who was leaning on the stone once again.

"In time, Max. But perhaps we should worry about ourselves first…" Virgil trailed off as the initial wave of Shabties broke into a run to clash with the three warriors.

"Ready?" Norman asked Max, the boy tensing at his side. In spite of the split second he had in which to observe the boy before he needed to focus on the battle, the Viking took in a dissertation's worth of information in that single glance. Although the Cap-Bearer himself may not have been aware of it, Norman could see that Max was subtly changed. He held himself a little differently, and the air of confidence and competence that usually permeated every inch of his being was now replaced by a measure of uncertainty.

"As I'll ever be, I guess," Max said, more to himself than anyone else. He sighed, then, unexpectedly, charged the Shabties head-on. "Cowabunga!"

"Max!" Virgil gasped. Norman was already moving in the boy's wake.

"All right, you ugly excuses for lackeys! Take this!" The Cap-Bearer launched himself at the nearest rock-being with a yell, aiming a kick for the thing's middle. His foot connected solidly and the mindless henchman crumpled around him. Whipping a staff out of disintegrating hands, Max regained his balance and swung the long stick at the next baddie.

Meanwhile, Norman was steadily taking the Shabties apart in droves, slicing through them with his sword as well as head-butting, kicking, punching, body-slamming, elbowing, and stomping every stone body that put itself within his reach. But, in spite of the chaos of the fight, Norman's eyes were steadily focused on Max, and he was never farther than a split-second leap from his friend.

Against all odds, Max was holding his own. As Virgil finally reached the battle-site, the Shabties converging on Norman and Max rather than swarming around and heading for Presley, the Lemurian had to admit that he was extremely impressed by the boy's resilience. There were definite changes now: Max did not seem as lucky anymore, his attacks not quite so effective as they had once been. But the Cap-Bearer still had the experience of dozens of adventures that had toned his reflexes, his courage, and his tactics in battle, and these served him well. For the moment.

"Mighty One or not," the fowl thought to himself, "Presley's right. He can still be a hero."

But a moment later, reality struck home. One of Max's swings went wide and Scarab's minion ducked his blow. Though Max managed to backpedal out of grabbing-range, the rock-man swung his own staff, hitting the boy squarely in the stomach. As the air fled his lungs in shock, Max dropped to a knee gasping. Virgil became aware of Norman blurring towards his friend, literally crushing anything in his way. Before the ex-Guardian could interpose himself, however, another stone being bashed Max across the face with its staff, knocking the boy into a long skid in the dirt from which he did not rise.

A nearly-inhuman roar tore itself from Norman's throat as the Viking reached the offending creature and demolished him with a crunch. Feeling blood rage rush through him with the vicious fire of throbbing hatred, Norman felt himself transforming into a force, a bringer of destruction, an angel of death. He would exact vengeance upon those rock-beings that had hurt his boy. They and those who had sent them would pay dearly for this.

"Max! No!" Virgil didn't even know he was running until he found himself standing over the Cap-Bearer's prone body. He registered the presence of blood under the boy's down-turned head before he became aware that another wave of Shabties was approaching. Fear tight in his throat, Virgil put himself between the oncoming threat and the boy he prayed with all his soul would be all right after a blow like that. He spread his arms protectively and waited.

"I may not be able to do much," the fowl said to himself, "but I'll do whatever I have to. For Max."

-==OOO==-

 

Eternity, Rath decided, was boring.

Certainly he enjoyed the peace and quiet, the endless shelves of books and scrolls, the full laboratory that held every compound and scientific or magical instrument he could ever need. Here, at last, he would have the ability to answer so many of the plaguing questions of magic and science that had never been within his grasp before. Here he would find solutions to problems no mortal had ever solved. Here he could truly excel as the wizard and student of knowledge he had always hoped he might find the time to become.

But it was, nonetheless, boring.

After more than one lifetime in the world of people, a world of distractions, adventures, and allies, the perfect quiet of this workspace was downright unnerving. Rath had eagerly jumped at the chance to learn at first, steadily devouring tome after tome of previously unknown wisdom, trying those experiments that seemed relevant or interesting or challenging. But after some undetermined amount of time, the pursuit of knowledge lost its gleaming interest. After all, a person needed more than to study and read for all time. Even Rath.

"It's just not the same," he complained, wandering idly between rows of books and parchment. "With so much time and quiet in which to focus, I can't…focus. And besides, what is the purpose of learning if I've no one to teach?"

The ex-mummy sighed. He missed the others, missed their familiar noises and interruptions, their nonsensical questions and their occasionally useful, albeit inadvertent, insights. He missed Ja-Kal's intensity, Nefertina's energy, and Armon's…well, surely there was something to miss about Armon. And Presley. He missed the boy, and not only for his fine qualities as a student and prince.

"When was it decided that I should spend eternity all alone?" the snake-avatar demanded of a particularly large crystal set up on a shelf. "I thought this is what I wanted, but I was terribly wrong. What sort of afterlife is devoid of all…life?"

He threw himself disconsolately into the nearest padded chair and closed his eyes. Life, even undeath, had offered him so much, more in recent times than in ancient Egypt. Having known what it meant to truly live, to have the force of adrenaline and human emotion fueling his waking moments, how could he ever go back to the stoic and empty intellectual he had been?

"Forever," he sighed, a hint of despair creeping into his heart, "is going to be a very, very long time."


	18. Council of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Running out of clever things to say here…still don't own them. Shouldn't be a big surprise, right?
> 
> Enjoy!

Presley watched the scene with increasing horror. Max had been doing so well, even without his gifts of luck and insight, but that blow could have flattened a building. The ex-prince started forward, instinct screaming at him to rush to the Cap-Bearer's side, but he found himself oddly hesitant. After only a few steps, Presley froze, transfixed by the actions of Virgil and Norman. While the Viking became a whirlwind of savage brutality, Virgil stood almost patiently as the clump of Shabties neared.

"He's just…standing there, even though they'll kill him," Presley realized with a start.

"Indeed he is," sang a voice. The darker boy spun in surprise.

The stone obelisk carved into the mountain had been glowing from the moment Presley and Max touched it, but now something was definitely changing. The runes that were etched in precise patterns, previously a reddish-gold color, flushed white for an instant. Then, the entire vertical surface of the strangely-shaped mountain rippled like still water when a drop falls into it. Suddenly, stone did not seem solid anymore; in fact, it was no surprise to Presley when a vague form passed through the bottom of the obelisk as one would a curtain of beads.

The sounds of battle faded as every eye, whether of flesh or stone, paused in its activity to stare at the emerging being.

The form brightened into something entirely inexplicable, like water and light and color and air all made tangible yet infinite together. There was a heartbeat of wonder as comprehension dawned. Then a cloud that had momentarily blocked the sun moved away. The moment the shifting and endless shape was touched by the bright sunlight, a feeling like soundless thunder shook the whole mountain. The ground quivered as if during an earthquake, and the heights of the mountain rained a shower of stones down in all directions.

Silence, utter silence, fell.

A cracking noise drew Presley's dazed attention away from the amazing being. He turned just in time to see every one of the Shabties fall away to dust in perfect unison. Norman blinked confusedly, then sheathed his sword and, ignoring the steadily glowing thing at the base of the obelisk, dashed to the side of his fallen friend.

"Virgil. Is he…?" the Viking asked through clenched teeth. Virgil broke out of his own trance and remembered where he was. Swiftly he knelt at Max's head, gingerly turning the boy over with Norman's help. Presley found himself rushing to them both, arresting his sudden sprint before he could accidentally collide with the ex-Guardian who was kneeling and hovering. The ex-prince bit back a gasp, his wonderment forgotten.

Max's eyes were closed. A red welt stretched from his temple to the corner of his mouth, and blood streamed from its raised and swollen length. Cuts and bruises littered the rest of his face and arms from the harsh ground of his landing. In spite of the injuries Presley had sustained in the dimension of the goddess, this seemed more real somehow. It felt like the difference between violence in the movies and violence in real life; the stark knowledge that this was not make-up, that there were real consequences to it, made the ugly injury far worse in Presley's eyes.

"Is he breathing?" the boy asked as he drew nearer.

"Yes," and there was relief in Virgil's voice.

"Stand aside." The voice of Ma'at was unmistakable, and even Norman looked away from his friend to face the divine speaker. But where the small group was used to the form of the ostrich-goddess, they were instead faced with someone else altogether.

A young girl, several inches shorter than Max and Presley, stood a distance behind them. Her skin was the warm bronze of the Egyptian people, her hair starkly black, hanging long and unbound down her back. She wore a simple garment that was somewhere between a toga and a dress, the color of the lightest blue sky. Though she appeared no more than eight or nine years old, there was wisdom in her countenance, a grace and pride with which she carried herself.

"Ma'at." Norman's voice was surprisingly respectful. Though he looked back at Max's still body, the Viking did as he had been bidden and moved away. Virgil and Presley belatedly followed suit. The goddess incarnate dropped to both knees in a gesture reminiscent of a child kneeling to play in the dirt. She stretched forth her left hand, extending the first two fingers which were, strangely, the same length. When her fingertips touched Max's bleeding and swollen face, the Cap-Bearer was suddenly whole. It was not that his flesh drew together and became well, as happened the first time Ma'at healed the boys; rather, it was as though the injuries done to his body had never been.

"Whoa. Did anybody catch the license plate on that boulder?" Max quipped, blue eyes opening. He seemed unsurprised to see the child-like goddess leaning over him. Pushing himself to a sitting position, the ex-Mighty One brushed some dirt off the brim of his Cap. "Thank you."

"So…you're here," Presley said awkwardly, doing his best to ignore the tinge of fear that came with seeing the goddess again. His last memories of her were not at all pleasant. As neither Max nor Ma'at showed any inclination to stand up, the darker boy reluctantly took a seat next to Max, keeping a narrow but somewhat-comforting distance from the girl. Virgil and Norman settled themselves into a rough approximation of a circle with the others.

"I am."

"Does this mean we can go kick Babi's butt now?" Norman asked, his customary eagerness restored. As the Viking was not truly a berserker, he quickly regained his composure upon seeing Max made whole again. As Virgil often said, the ex-Guardian could turn his rage on and off like modern people did their lights. But then, the utterly peaceful presence of Ma'at may have contributed to that uncanny calm.

"You may if you wish," Ma'at said.

"Wait a moment," Virgil put in. "It is you yourself that must defeat Babi. Isn't it?"

"Of course not."

"What!" Max nearly jumped to his feet, only stopped by the tranquilizing gesture of his feathered mentor. "But that's why you're here! To beat him! You know, like in those wimpy cartoons where the girl-heroes blast the bad guys to bits with the powers of love and nature or something?"

An explosive giggle burst out of Presley before he could stop it. Everyone looked at him in surprise, but he couldn't help himself. Max, the Mighty One, well, ex-Mighty One, the Cap-Bearer, watching girly cartoons! It was just silly enough to offer a moment of relief to his mourning spirit.

"In answer to your question," Ma'at said slowly, delicately, "no. It is not up to me to defeat Babi. I have risen, and so the world may be saved, but it cannot be my hand or my powers by which the deed is accomplished."

"Then why did we summon you?" Presley's humor was gone as quickly as it had come; the laughter had been therapeutic, but it could not endure. "What was the point of it all, if you're not going to do anything? I gave up my friends!" He was yelling now. "They're gone and I'll never see them again, just to bring you here so you could save the world! And you're not even going to do that?"

"You appear to have misunderstood. The fact of my existence in your world does not negate Babi's presence, any more than the fact of goodness wipes out evil simply by being alongside it. Instead, because I am here, I shall serve to re-balance this world such that Babi's advantage over you will be somewhat lessened. In this way, you may be able to defeat him."

"You're telling us that the only reason you are here is to restore the cosmic balance which was thrown off when Babi arrived and tipped the scales, so to speak, towards evil," Virgil said. "But you yourself are not here to battle him directly."

"Correct."

"So what now?" Max demanded. "We brought you here, went through all your trials, gave up all our powers, not to mention the mummies, and for what? So you would come out of your rock and not do anything? We're back at square-one all over again!"

"It is not up to me to save this world. My place in the universe is to balance good and evil, to weigh the merit and worthiness of men against the temptations of darkness, as I have said. I am not a sword to be wielded, even in the best of causes. But I shall balance the scales such that you yourselves may be the swords."

"You're saying we have to fight him on our own?" Presley asked.

"Yes. It was always meant to be thus. After all, the matters of men must be decided by men. I will make it possible for you to face Babi. The rest, and the fate of your world, is up to you."

"But how can we do anything? We lost the mummies. I lost my abilities and a bunch of rock-dudes just wiped the floor with me! We're useless now!" Max's usually jovial face was angry, very angry.

"And as such may you prove your true worth. That is the difficult path of all heroes, my young kings. But you will not be without aid."

Before anyone could ask her what she meant by that, the goddess regally inclined her head. Appearing over the edge of the plateau, flashing purple in the sunlight, was Scarab.

-==OOO==-

 

"Now, look," Scarab growled, "this is really unnecessary."

"Unnecessary my foot," Norman replied angrily. The Viking's sword-point rested against Scarab's frail neck, the sorcerer having released his own armor in a show of good faith. As good as Scarab's faith ever was, anyway. It had taken less than a moment for Norman to react to the presence of one who was both hated and feared by the now-departed mummies, and that reaction, in spite of Scarab's attempts at peace-making, was entirely in character for the ex-Guardian.

"Norman, perhaps we should hear him out," Virgil cautioned.

"Listen. There's nothing for me to gain here. The one thing I wanted was the eternal soul of Rapses, and that's gone now. Drat my slow wings at being too late to prevent it! But anyway," he said hurriedly as the ex-Guardian began to lose patience, "the point is that I have no reason to attack you and every reason to help you."

"Seriously, you need to get a grip, buddy," Heka quipped. But, with the sword of a pretty savage warrior so close to her master's windpipe, she remained still where she had been dropped when Norman had taken Scarab hostage.

"Why should we believe you?" Presley asked. The boys stood on either side of Ma'at and Virgil, somewhat behind the extremely protective Norman.

"Because if I don't help you get rid of that overgrown ape, there won't be a world left for me to take over! Not to mention that it's the only way we have any chance of restoring Rapses's soul, which I still want for myself."

"Sounds legit, Virg," Max shrugged. "He's got as much to lose as we do."

"Agreed. Norman, lower your sword." But the Viking ignored the Lemurian fowl completely.

"Easy, big guy," Max said, stepping forward and putting a hand on Norman's elbow. "If he steps out of line, then you can get him. Okay?" The ex-Guardian glanced at his boy, then relented. He sheathed his sword, albeit reluctantly, but kept a sharp eye and a malevolent glare fixed on Scarab.

"Thank you, my boy." Scarab rubbed his throat experimentally, then waved Heka back to his side. "Now, I believe you were attempting to make some sort of plan to get rid of Babi."

"Indeed," Ma'at said, her voice soft. Scarab, for all the evilness of his character, knew a goddess when he saw her, and though he despised morality and justice and equality and fair play, he had no choice but go along with it all.

"Well, since I am obviously too late to prevent the prince from summoning you here, we must work with what we have."

"Duh," Max said mockingly, sitting down again. The others settled into another rough circle, this time with Scarab and Heka at a far end, Norman somehow having interposed himself between the ancient vizier and the boys.

"Now, it seems to me…" Virgil began as an uneasy quiet settled over the strange group.

"It seems to me that you are not precisely qualified to lead us," the withered sorcerer interrupted. "After all, you are a stranger to this world and know nothing of its prophecies or the metaphysical workings of our universe."

"On the contrary," Virgil retorted, stung. "While I may not be native to this particular plane of existence, I have perhaps a greater working knowledge of prophecy and multi-dimensional transitory physics than most beings in any world or universe. And," Virgil's voice grew rather sharper, "it is not I that will lead. Rather, if the goddess Ma'at chooses to remain a bystander, that responsibility must fall to Max and the former prince Rapses."

"Oh, whatever," Heka grumbled to herself. "Let's not get into a game of 'my brain is bigger than your brain' here."

"So, then, what do you recommend we do?" Scarab demanded of the Lemurian, his voice scathing.

"By my calculations, it would appear that in order to defeat Babi, if such a thing is now made possibly by Ma'at's presence," and he nodded serenely in her direction, "the deed must be done by you, Scarab. After all, it is rather your fault that we are in this predicament."

"Which is exactly what I was saying," Norman muttered.

"Oh, you really came up with that all on your own, did you?" Scarab mocked. "Of course it has to be me that sends that ape back. I'm the one that summoned him in the first place! Even those idiot mummies could have told you that. I am not impressed with your supposed intelligence yet."

"And survey says that this isn't helping!" Max pointed out. "Can't you two lay off long enough to figure something out?"

"No," Scarab said darkly. Norman grunted, and the vizier contrived to look a bit less like a storm-cloud.

"Although, I would say that we do owe you a measure of thanks. According to the prophecy, it was your error that allowed us to summon Ma'at at all, and therefore, we do have a chance to set things right," Virgil said thoughtfully.

"Error nothing. Skullmaster tricked me." For a supervillain as old and intimidating as Scarab could be, he sounded rather petulant. "That bony friend of yours assured me that by using hairs from both Rapses and the Mighty One it would only increase my control over Babi, not eliminate it entirely!"

"He probably planned that from the beginning," Max considered.

"Of course. Skullmaster must have known that by having you use both boys' hairs you would force us to complete the second part of the prophecy, namely summoning Ma'at. And in so doing, he won a victory over us all by simultaneously eliminating the Mighty One forever without actually having to confront him, as well as denying you the soul you wanted and the power it would have brought you."

"Wow." Presley stared at the ancient fowl when he stopped talking. "Could he really plan all that out? I mean, did he really know we would do that?"

"Told ya he was a pain," Max winced.

"Anyway," Scarab said testily, "yes, you're entirely correct. Now the only ones who could have prevented what he is bringing to pass are gone, and he didn't have to lift a finger. Heroes," he snarled disdainfully. "You just rush into things without considering the consequences!"

"Hey, we considered them!" the ex-prince said defensively. "You're the one who decided to hook up with Skullmaster!"

"The point," Virgil interrupted, "is that Scarab alone has the power to send Babi back to whatever sub-dimension he is supposed to inhabit, since he was the one who originally brought him to this world."

"Yes, yes. But I can't do it alone, you know."

"Why not?" Max asked.

"I'll need you and Rapses to help. After all, I did use your hairs the first time."

"I knew you were bad news," the Viking scowled.

"Nevertheless, Norman, I believe there is some truth to Scarab's words," Virgil put in. "It will probably take all three of them to rebind Babi in his own world, given that it took all three to call him from it."

"Wait a minute. What about Rath's spell? You know, the 'truth that polluted the summoning' bit?" Max asked.

"Hmm. Good point," the vizier conceded, thinking.

"Does that mean that we can't beat them without Rath?" Presley asked softly, eyes downcast at the raw reminder of his loss.

"No, it does not." Everyone turned to look at Ma'at who had been silent for so long. She regarded them all coolly. "I am the counterbalance to that as well. You need only each other."

"Oh, well, in that case…" It was only a warning look from Scarab that kept his talkative snake from earning herself a large sword through the side.

"But what about the mechanics of the magic?" Virgil wanted to know. "It can't be that simple, for you three to recite a spell and cast Babi away, you realize."

"Indeed, but at this time I don't know what else we're going to need," Scarab admitted. "Usually…"

"Usually you don't clean up your own messes," Presley broke in angrily. "Usually we do it for you, when things get out of hand. You've never had to take responsibility for your own actions, and we have to pay for it!"

"Hey," Max tried to put a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Get out of my face, Max! I don't want to deal with him anymore," as he roughly climbed to his feet. "It's Scarab's fault this happened anyway. It's his fault the mummies are gone! I'm not going to help him do anything." And with that, the boy stomped away, eventually returning to the obelisk embedded in the mountain where he leaned against the rock and hung his head.

"Well, adolescent angst strikes again, eh?" the sorcerer smirked.

"You leave him alone," Max said, defensiveness strong in his voice. "He's right that this is your fault."

"Or is it yours?" Scarab returned. "After all, it was only by your coming here that I made contact with Skullmaster at all. Face it: you are as culpable as I am."

"Is that true?" Max turned to Virgil.

"Not quite. It is true that our presence here may have precipitated matters, but as I said when we first arrived, had we not journeyed to this dimension, Scarab would have unleashed a far greater evil on this world, one which they would have had no chance of subduing."

"Oh, let's just point fingers now, shall we?"

"Are you really sure I can't hurt him, even a little, Max?" Norman asked, gesturing to the increasingly annoying enemy. Max shook his head.

"Not yet. But if he says anything like that again, you can play with the snake," the boy offered. Norman looked speculatively at Heka, then grinned.

"I eat snakes for breakfast."

 

-==OOO==-

 

Armon had never been so full in his life! This afterlife was fantastic!

Munching through a haunch of roasted pig that was bigger than his own leg, the mountain of a man grinned at every bite. He had forgotten that food tasted so much better when he had been alive; flesh and skin and taste-buds and saliva somehow made enough of a difference that every Beefy Burger he had ever eaten now seemed like sand. And with two good arms, muscle, bone, and sinew fully restored, he could eat twice as fast. What a deal!

Looking over the enormous table of food, Armon rumbled in approval. Not only did he have access to every dish his mother had ever made for him, but those foods he had grown to appreciate in Presley's time were well-represented too. Beyond the table, a large training ground awaited him, fully equipped with weights and weapons enough to satisfy even his immense hunger for training. It appeared that he could comfortably spend eternity eating and perfecting his warrior's arts. And, when he needed a break, a low couch was made up for a long, luxurious nap.

"What more could a mummy…er, a man want?" Armon sighed blissfully. Cramming the last of the roast pig into his mouth, he ambled towards the ring, feeling his powerful frame settle into its living shape. Years of undeath had made the warrior stiffer and more rigid as bandages and missing organs interfered with the way his body was supposed to work. Now he moved smoothly, lithe as a gazelle, but with the power of a pack of hunting lions. It was a grace and strength he had not known since before his arm had been lost.

"Now, let's get to work."

Hours or days or forever later, Armon was exhausted but deeply pleased. This new body could be pushed much farther, much harder than his old one. Already he was surpassing his best feats, overcoming obstacles that had held him back for years. Already he felt whole, inside and out, as his fighter's spirit found a true equal in his metaphysical flesh.

And yet something was missing. Though he ignored it at first, the enormous man became more and more aware that things were not entirely perfect. First of all, what was the purpose of sparring if he had no one to spar with? Armon found himself missing Ja-Kal and Nefertina, and even Rath, who could occasionally be convinced to go a few rounds for practice. Secondly, he felt an emptiness where Presley should have been. What was the good of having the strength of the gods with no one to protect or instruct? And living alone was not something Armon had anticipated at all. A lifetime of crowded quarters, first in barracks, then in the guard houses of the pharaoh, and finally in the pyramid with the other guardians had become as much a part of his rhythm as his breathing. How strange to get all the way through an exercise without hearing Rath grumble about wasted energy, or getting a friendly jibe from Nefertina! These thoughts were troubling, a ripple in what should have been a peaceful and fulfilling afterlife.

"All things considered," Armon muttered to himself as he settled in for a nap to clear his head, "I'd give back the arm for the sake of seeing my friends again."

-==OOO==-

 

"This is your plan?" Max demanded. "The two biggest brains in the universe, definitely the biggest heads, and all you can come up with is 'hold hands and chant?' What is this, summer camp for tree-huggers?"

Norman snorted, hiding his laughter with a real effort. The past half-hour had only served to irritate everyone, and the Viking was just about ready to make a necklace out of Scarab's extremely opinionated snake. But, Heka's commentary aside, the group had made frustratingly little progress. Presley was still sitting against the planar mountainside, pointedly ignoring them, but the rest of the assorted heroes, villains, and gods had been wracking their brains to find some kind of workable solution. The results, as the Cap-Bearer pointed out, were not impressive.

"Max, you must understand that…" Virgil began.

"I hardly expect a boy such as you to grasp the incredible difficulties involved in this sort of magic," Scarab waved dismissively. "You must trust your betters in these matters, boy."

"And you," the Lemurian shot back before Norman could threaten Scarab for the umpteenth time, "should show the Cap-Bearer more respect. He is, after all, a hero more than capable of defeating you."

"Was a hero," Heka pointed out.

"No wonder the mummies hate you," Max muttered to himself. "You're a royal pain in the neck."

"Getting back to the point, it appears that, yes, Max, you must hold hands and chant with Scarab to send Babi back." The ancient fowl spoke quickly, attempting to avoid further interruptions. "Norman and I will distract him while you conduct the ritual."

"Is that all?"

"Yes. Now, why don't you go and speak to…the prince," Virgil realized just in time that Scarab had never heard Presley's real name, "and explain things. I will have the banishing spell ready by the time you return."

That was a dismissal as clear as any Max had ever gotten, and something unspoken in Virgil's eyes told him that there was a good reason he needed to separate himself from the others. While normally the Cap-Bearer would have pushed the issue, curious as to why he was being shunted aside, Scarab had worn his last nerve raw. He was just as glad to leave his friends to deal with the egotistical sorcerer.

"You lie well." Scarab's eyes were narrow, and he spoke softly until Max was out of hearing range.

"Lie?" Norman turned to his oldest friend, demonstrating only curiosity in place of the confusion he felt.

"You know the rite isn't that simple, don't you?" Heka asked the warrior impatiently.

"Norman…" Virgil sighed sadly. The Viking felt something inside go cold; every time Virgil made that particular face, it meant serious trouble. "There's a chance that…well, depending upon how strong Babi has gotten…"

"It could very well kill us all," Scarab finished bitterly. "Though why you wouldn't tell the boy, sorry, the hero, the truth is beyond me."

"If the Cap-Bearer is being asked to sacrifice his life, he must do so knowingly," Ma'at said, reminding everyone present that she was still in their midst. Virgil turned to her and bowed his head respectfully.

"Indeed, you are correct. But we have no way of being certain if it will come to that, and I wish to spare the boy any anxiety in the meantime. He has been through enough. And as for you," turning to Scarab with a disdainful scowl arching his beak, "I do not answer to you."

"But you do answer to Max," Norman pointed out quietly. Virgil sighed again.

"I know it."

"Ooh. Making a kid risk his life without even telling him? That's cold, even for us," Heka said appreciatively.

"No! It isn't like that. I will tell him, if I think the Cap-Bearer needs to know," the Lemurian protested. "I would never send him into danger without being fully aware of the full extent of what was at risk."

"Sure you would, Virg," came a voice from behind the fowl, "you've done it before. But I'm sure you'd tell me about this." Max contrived to soften his tone a bit.

"M…Cap-Bearer!" Beside the spluttering scholar, Norman allowed himself a satisfied smile. His boy never failed to surprise them. Apparently the lessons about sneaking up on adversaries had taken hold in his young friend.

"Relax," Max said, resuming his place in the circle along with Presley. "We kinda figured on something like this."

"Yeah, the whole 'sacrifice of body and soul' thing isn't really new," the darker boy nodded, his gloom obviously still shrouding him. "Been there, done that."

"And yet you are willing to accept these possible consequences to yourselves?" Ma'at asked pointedly, her eyes only for the boys.

"Yeah." Presley's face fell into a blank expression, then tightened to something more determined. "It's our job, right?"

"We've done everything else on this trip," Max shrugged. "Let's round this thing out right."

"Very well."

-==OOO==-

 

Nefertina had thought she had known freedom many times. First, when she had learned to ride horses, and later drive chariots, even against the wishes of her father, for they carried her away from the small life she was living. Later, she found emancipation by disguising herself as a man, entering the pharaoh's service, and becoming his most trusted charioteer. But there were hidden chains there, too: now able to pursue the activity she so loved, Nefertina had to lie to everyone around her, locked in the guise of another. Finally, reawakened in the modern world, the guardian had cast off those limitations and sought even greater freedoms, her willpower ignited in a land dedicated to liberty, even for girls. And yet, still she had been bound to duty, to the rules of a promise made centuries prior. Her service to Rapses had been her last, binding chain.

And now it had snapped.

Nefertina's wild heart was racing, flooding her new body with such adrenaline and elation as she had never known. The strange mix of beast and machine that thundered against the ground was the fastest thing the lioness had ever known; she felt as though she were riding the lightning itself. Unlike the Jet-Cycle she had been so familiar with, this creation responded to her every touch, sometimes with an uncanny ability to tweak its own performance for her, seemingly intentionally. Long hair, rich and black once more, streamed from under the light helmet as Nefertina threw her head back and laughed. Speed, freedom - here there were no limits to either!

"Like it?" a voice shouted, somehow audible over the wicked winds that made the ride still more exciting.

"Yeah!" As promised, Nefertina was beside Apep, the Serpent of the Desert who loved her spirit and her strength, who valued her independence more than any man ever had. Together, complete with his own miracle of a racer, they devoured the landscape.

"I'm so glad you have finally joined me, Nefertina," Apep said later, when they had come to a stop on the side of a purple mountain, overlooking endless, untamed lands that begged to be explored and conquered.

"I…am, too." The lioness found a sudden sorrow in her heart, an unexpected hesitancy. At last, she had total freedom, that which she had sought all her life, yet, something was still missing. Like a wildfire, Nefertina had thrown herself on the back of the wind and been consumed with the sensations of ultimate speed and liberty. Like any fire, however, she would eventually burn herself out.

"You sound not sure. I thought you'd be happy once you were free of your obligations in the mortal world." Apep's voice was edged, as always, but there was a genuine attempt at patience as well.

"I've never been without responsibilities to someone before," she admitted. "Maybe it's just tough getting used to it."

But that chain of duty, the holdover from her life, Nefertina was realizing, had also been the one force that restrained her, balanced her, kept her centered. Like a rock in a sling, the force of the hunter's arm kept it secure and strong, whipping rapidly through the air and yet controlled. But if the ties of the sling broke, rather than experiencing a focused release, the stone would tumble away, dangerous and wild, and most certainly not in the intended direction. "I don't believe it. I'm thinking like Ja-Kal!" she berated herself internally.

"Well, you've got eternity to get used to it!" Apep exclaimed with a gleaming smile. "I'll be more than happy to help you rid yourself of your imposed limits and your habit of censoring yourself. I want you," and his voice went suddenly deep as he pulled Nefertina into an embrace, "to realize your true self, unfettered by anything. I want to see how brightly your soul can blaze once you truly set it free."

"I want that, too." Nefertina accepted the hug, willing herself to fall into her eternity completely. But somehow, something was nagging at her, inhibiting her, and she had a sneaking suspicion that it came from the world beyond the Western Gate.


	19. On the Field of Destiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves, guys. Here we go…
> 
> Enjoy!

"You do realize we have very little time, don't you?" Scarab said impatiently. "Babi and that friend of yours are actually on their way here, and they were not far behind me."

"Indeed. I sense their approach even now. I anticipate we have only a few more minutes before they arrive." The serenity in Ma'at's rich voice, still so strange coming from the body of a child, actually blurred the meaning of her words for a few seconds.

"Minutes?" the boys questioned in unison as the facts clicked in their minds.

"Yes. Therefore I must prepare to open the doorway back into the realms of the gods. And you must prepare your incantation. It is good that you accepted your duty so quickly." The goddess rose and moved back towards the obelisk embedded in the mountain. After several moments of indecision, Presley followed. Perhaps it was a trick of the afternoon sunlight, but it seemed that the goddess may have actually smirked at the heroes.

"Okay, Virg, time for some Lemurian…geometr…er…calculus…um…whatever math you do," Max finished lamely.

Virgil and Scarab faced each other, glaring. The pint-sized fowl was suddenly very grateful for Norman's protectiveness; the Viking was a strong, looming presence to his left, reminding both scholars that their uneasy truce would be enforced. As the two began to mix their knowledge and insight, a faint hope blossomed in the Lemurian's heart. Perhaps, just perhaps, if he did this correctly, he could protect the boys no matter what Babi's strength. He had to try. The fidgeting Cap-Bearer at his side had endured more than anyone ought to have asked of such a youngling, and he had somehow survived; Virgil would not let his end come now.

Scarab, on the other hand, was thinking in an entirely opposite direction. Realizing that any move he made would have to be extremely subtle and likely in the heat of the moment, he seized on a weak point in Virgil's understandings of the metaphysics of magic and left himself a way to exploit it. If somebody had to die to cast Babi from the earth, there was no way the sorcerer would let it be himself. And, with the spirit of the pharaoh gone beyond recall, as far as he was concerned, Max and the ex-prince were totally expendable.

Meanwhile, Presley stood with Ma'at beside the carvings that had caused him such pain, and yet now felt like a refuge; here, against this stone, was the last place he had seen his friends. He reached out to touch the circle of his own unmaking, a sort of longing in his heart to undo what he had done.

"Don't." The command was absolute.

"Why?" Presley turned to the goddess in confusion. "I've been leaning on this thing all day, ever since…"

"I know," and Ma'at's voice went quite soft and warm. Coaxing, as one might speak to a wounded bird. "You have sacrificed much, and may yet sacrifice more, but observe. It has not been in vain."

Presley looked up at the unnatural rock and was taken aback. When he and Max had originally summoned the goddess, the runes had glowed with a red and gold light. When Ma'at had risen, it had been white. After that, the obelisk had seemed to settle, retaining an echo of light, but not shining the same way. Now, however, it was alive with prismatic energy. The symbols, some of which he could have sworn were not present until now, practically danced against the cliff-face with the light of so many colors Presley's eyes could not quite absorb them.

"Each color represents a world, a dimension bound to this one: my own, that of the lands beyond the Western Gate, and untold other places and spaces that, together, make up this one universe. With the magic of the soul of Rapses and the powers of the Mighty One, this single mountain has become a gateway to them all. When you banish Babi, I will open the appropriate doorway, such that we may return him to his own realm."

"Could…could I see the guys through this?" Presley found himself asking.

"No. That I cannot allow. Their afterlives are their own."

"Oh." The ex-prince closed his eyes and sighed. He hurt so much inside. There was an ache that would just not go away, a pain that he could neither ignore nor bear. He had only started to realize how much his guardians meant to him, how much they could mean to each other, and now he was alone.

"Can you at least tell me if they're happy?" he whispered against a tight throat.

Ma'at's silence was deafening.

 

-==OOO==-

 

Having grown irritated with the tedium of working out the precise wording of a banishing spell, especially given that the Cap-Bearer much preferred to do things spontaneously, he had appointed himself lookout. Max figured he had done his part – one of his jokes had spurned some kind of insight for the scholars that got them both talking quickly and incoherently, thus driving the boy away in disgust. If nothing else, it gave him some distance from Scarab's distain and Heka's needling. Besides, the quiet of the landscape was somehow calming. Mighty One or not, Max had seen enough pain and loss in his short life to feel the weight of responsibility keenly, and that weight came with the shadow of dread. Shadows. Max's head snapped up. At first there had been nothing but trees and mountains to be seen from the high plateau, but now a shadow had appeared between two of the nearby peaks. A big shadow. That moved.

"Uh, guys? Check it out!" Max pointed.

"Babi!" Presley exclaimed, fear jumping into his throat and pushing his sorrow aside for the moment. He looked back to Ma'at to say something, but stopped. The child-like goddess was ignoring him. She had turned to face the obelisk and had placed a hand on each of the blank circles that Presley and Max knew so well. As her small face turned slowly upwards, she began to emit a soft, white glow.

"I guess it's time, then," Presley muttered to himself disconsolately, shoving his hands into his pockets and moving away from her. Ma'at had been an odd sort of ally to the boy, a source of comfort in her capacity as someone who could tell him what mattered, what was real. Though some of her lessons had brought pain, most of them had ended in peace and insight, both encouraging and heartening the boy caught in swirling events beyond his usual adventures. She had served as a surrogate mentor, as it were, and one he needed in the void of his friends. But she, like Presley, had other duties that far outweighed his distress. He rejoined the others reluctantly.

"Now, do you know what to do?" Scarab asked Norman and Virgil condescendingly.

"I eat baboons for breakfast."

"That's a lot of breakfasts, Normie," Max quipped, a familiar grin trying to shine through his troubled face.

"I'm a hungry boy," the Viking replied, smirking.

"Sick…" Heka muttered to herself.

"We know the drill, Scarab," Presley cut off his nemesis before the sorcerer could make any commentary of his own. "Norman distracts, Virgil instructs, we chant. Not complicated."

"Good. And no matter what happens, you boys must not let go, or all this will truly be for nothing." Something in Scarab's voice set off a warning in the heroes' minds, but there was really no time for them to challenge him. The ground was beginning to shake under their feet as a small mountain unto itself was beginning to draw uncomfortably near.

The group moved backwards almost simultaneously, stopping only when they were a few feet from where Ma'at continued to glow with the obelisk. With a broader view of the area, it became rapidly apparent that the whole mountain was doing more than shaking under Babi's enormous weight. The edges of the plateau were answering the goddess's light with a luminescence of their own. Behind or perhaps beneath the audible rumbling of what must have been the beginning of Babi's ascent, a warm sort of humming was becoming more and more audible. The mountain steadied itself even as a hairy hand the size of a pickup truck came into view.

"Here it comes," Virgil said warningly, instinctively moving closer to Max. He stole a glance at the boy's face. His usually genial expression had hardened itself until it was more solid than the mountain itself. There was a dignity in his countenance, a courage rarely shown by even the Mighty One except in times of the worst peril. Virgil could see the man hovering inside his boy, the hero he could still become someday.

Babi lifted himself up, climbing smoothly over the thin line of light at the rim, and stood, his grotesque face contorted in a satisfied grin. The wispy version of Skullmaster that remained on his shoulder was gloating; the heroes and Scarab could hear it in his voice even across the expanse of the flat plane, though the words were lost in the distance. But the god's glee faded abruptly.

The glow that had been merely an echo of Ma'at suddenly flashed brilliantly around the edge of the plateau. As Babi turned in surprise, an opaque wall of something insubstantial yet felt rose from the rocks, arching all the way to the top of the mountain far above, enclosing the space in something resembling a snow globe without the artificial white flakes. The baboon turned and hesitantly reached his thick fingers to touch the pale light.

"No!" Skullmaster's cry echoed with trepidation, but it was too late. The moment Babi made contact with the energy, two things happened at once, eliciting cheers from the heroes. First, as though struck by lightning, Babi jerked violently, and when the convulsing had passed, appeared to have lost several yards in height and width. Still gigantic, he seemed less imposing now, more mortal and less god-like. And secondly, to Max's great relief in particular, a column of bright wind formed around Skullmaster.

"NO!" the evil of the Cap-Bearer's world bellowed. But here was a force he could not resist; Ma'at's magic lifted him into the air like a kite and his insubstantial form vanished.

"Now," thundered Ma'at's voice from every direction, unspoken by the child incarnation directly, "let the final battle for the earth begin."

And so it did.

-==OOO==-

 

Really, all things considered, Max preferred to fight. Watching Norman try and take on Babi all by his lonesome was impressive, certainly, but the Cap-Bearer felt frustrated at not being able to help. As when his Guardian had gone up against the Conqueror to win the right of his immortality, Max wanted to be there for the big guy, lend him the aid that only he could. They were a team. But at the moment, Norman was busily distracting the baboon god from the others while Virgil repeated their mantra over and over until everyone was sure they knew it by heart.

"Okay, we got it, Virg! Let's just do this!" the boy finally exploded. It did not help matters that the Viking was having only limited success with Babi. Norman was big, but Babi was huge.

"Then let us begin," Scarab intoned scathingly. He reached out for Presley's hand, but the darker boy flinched away instinctively. Max, without a word, settled himself between the enemies, although he was more than a little repulsed by Scarab's wrinkled and withered grip.

> _"Hope of ages, hope of light,_   
> _Courage born of heroes' plight,_   
> _By mortal will a spell unmade_   
> _And thus cast out this evil shade!"_

As the boys and Scarab recited the chant, Babi began to shriek, evidently suffering pain that was entirely unrelated to Norman's attacks. He rounded on the Viking, flinging him aside with one enormous arm as he began to move towards the real threat to his supremacy. Opening his mouth wide, he cast a ball of fire at the unguarded heroes.

"Now!" Virgil ordered. At his command, Heka leapt to Scarab's other hand and released the magic that had been laid within her a few minutes earlier. Her usual fire would have been no match for Babi, but with the aid of Virgil's knowledge and a little improvised input from Max, Scarab had augmented her abilities for a short time. Her flames, surprisingly dark red, met Babi's blast and stopped it mere feet from the rest of them.

"And now the second part!" Scarab shouted. "Quickly!" Obediently, the boys began the sealing verse of the spell:

> _"Powers born of mortal heart,_   
> _Fuse as one, defeat the dark._   
> _We grant our spirits and our light_   
> _To undo evil's earthly might!"_

"Oh, no!" Virgil exclaimed. Norman, having at last righted himself from Babi's vengeful blow, appeared at the Lemurian's side. Something was happening – a strange sort of hazy mist was lifting from the rock and curling around the casters, lazily at first but quickly growing in intensity and speed.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Scarab's betrayed us." For, while Max and Presley had been occupied with their own spell, they had not really been listening to the ancient vizier. He had changed the wording of the second verse for himself, substituting the words "we" with "I" and "our" with "their," effectively placing the entire burden of the banishing on Max and Presley alone.

"You did what?" Max shouted against the sudden gale-force wind that seemed to press in on them from every direction with the odd fogginess. He could see a wicked gleam in the ancient man's eyes.

"I'm not going to go down with the ship, as it were. Enjoy the afterlife, boys!" And grinning with glee, Scarab released the Cap-Bearer's hand and transformed. Norman fought against the gathering magic to reach him, but the cyclone winds held him at bay just long enough. In beetle-form, the sorcerer threw himself into the air, carried high by his own magic, and headed for the peak of the mountain. Whatever happened next, he wanted to witness it, but not too closely.

"What does this mean?" Presley gasped. The air was getting uncomfortably cold around them, the pressure great.

"It means," and Virgil had to shout to be heard, "that the two of you must withstand the banishing alone or Babi will escape!"

"Can we?" Max shouted back.

"I don't know," the Lemurian whispered to himself. Norman turned to him, stricken.

"What's going to happen?"

"Do you remember what we once called 'Plan Omega,' Norman?" and Virgil's voice was extremely intense.

"Yes."

"Good. For it has finally come to that." And the fowl's beak shook as he said it. Norman nodded silently as all the blood drained from his face and the enormous man felt suddenly tiny and powerless.

"Gods help us."

-==OOO==-

 

Even as Max had yelled his doubting question to Virgil, he knew he would never hear the response. Not that it mattered; in his heart, the Cap-Bearer already knew the answer. Holding Presley's hand with all the force of his determination, he turned his attention to Babi. The baboon, momentarily frozen by Heka's attack and their second spell, was screaming. The sound of it was worse than any nails-on-a-chalkboard screech, and it seemed to surpass normal hearing and resonate directly within their brains. Both boys strained to keep from covering their ears, knowing full well that if they let go of their joined hands the banishing would fail.

Their world narrowed. There was only each other and the baboon. Virgil, Norman, Ma'at, even the pain of Presley's loss disappeared in their focus. The cold wind seemed to snap inward, and all at once neither Max nor Presley nor Babi could see the plateau anymore. The mountain, the sky, the land beyond, completely vanished. All that remained was a pale color over and around them, grey and mottled with silver. It reminded Max of a snow cloud right before a blizzard. Apparently the end of this battle of wills would not take place on earth as they knew it. To his somewhat-experienced gut, the Cap-Bearer felt almost as though they were now outside of all places, in no particular world but instead locked in the space that is between existence.

Babi loomed over them, so close he could have stepped on their unprotected bodies, since they could hardly flee. The boys looked up apprehensively, aware only of the biting cold around them and the god's eyes that burned. To their surprise, he addressed them.

"Release me from this magic and I will spare you," Babi menaced. "You will surely die if you keep to this path of foolishness. Release me and the world will be ours together. Or continue your course, and when you join me in the underworld, as you must, I will personally see to your eternity of suffering. You have not known pain yet, I promise you. I will exact revenge as I have never done before, and you will beg for my mercy in vain forever."

As one, the boys closed their eyes against that malevolent visage.

Max could feel Presley's hand shaking in his own. The cold that pressed inward on them was not wind anymore; it was as steady and unmovable as a glacier. With a start, Max realized it was death itself surrounding them, waiting to claim them when their frail bodies faltered. Babi was right. If they didn't stop now, there would be no hope of surviving this. But that was the only thing the Cap-Bearer considered Babi to have gotten right. He could not speak, could not draw breath against the icy pain that was starting in his chest, somewhere over his heart, but he knew he didn't need to anymore. He would hold on until death and after, come what may. He would bind Babi to the god's own lake of fire with his blood and soul if it came to that. It was the choice of a hero, but more than that, it was the only choice he could make. It was not in Max to do otherwise.

Presley, for his part, was afraid. He was afraid of the pain that was punching holes in his lungs, that made him want to run screaming to escape its lancing inevitability. He was afraid of Babi, knowing full well that what the god threatened could indeed come to pass and he would experience an eternity of what he had barely survived once under Ma'at for Ja-Kal's sake. Could he really bear to suffer it again? And most of all, Presley was afraid to fail his friends. They had all put their faith in him. The faces of his mummies flashed through the boy's mind: Ja-Kal's smile, Nefertina's eager excitement, Armon's confusion, Rath's focus. They had given him everything, even their lives. What if he didn't have the courage to be worthy? But it didn't matter. A silence fell in Presley's heart even as his body began to capitulate. A peace caught him. Because even if he was afraid, he could still choose to do the right thing. Maybe he would scream like a little girl for all time and Babi would laugh, but he would laugh from the underworld where he belonged. It was the only sacrifice Presley could offer his friends, his world, and he would not fail them. Not this time.

Presley wrenched his eyes open to face the nightmarish creature before him, even as cold iron settled itself in his stomach, propping up his strength and spine while it chilled him inside. Babi was shrieking again, but the baboon seemed as locked in place as Presley felt. The worst feeling of sickening pain was trickling up his legs and arms, closing in on him. Resolute in his decision, the boy could feel panic welling in his heart, not enough to sway him, but enough to terrify. Could he really go through with this? Presley pulled his face a few inches to the side to look at Max.

The Cap-Bearer's eyes were also open, and a few frozen tears were evident on his face. Max met Presley's pain-filled look with a steady one, already beyond the ache of the body. He nodded once, the Cosmic Cap bobbing almost comically against the seriousness of their situation. Then, incredibly, he lifted his other arm, though it seemed to be a super-human effort even to move. Max's fingers curled into a thumbs-up. Presley felt a sad smile force itself onto his own face as his first tear fell. As one, the heroes tightened their grip on each other.

There would be no last words for neither could breathe, yet they had already said everything they needed to say. As the pain began to overwhelm them, tearing them from consciousness in agonizing slowness, they were at last aware only of cold and regret.

 

-==OOO==-

 

Norman and Virgil had faced between them thousands of years worth of dangers. They had been present for events that had changed the course of human history forever, even when those events, such as the extinction of the Lemurians, had been largely forgotten. The pair had battled unimaginable foes, petrifying evils, and beings so otherworldly as to be completely and truly alien to anything ever born mortal. They had walked through the fires of the underworld, had moved through the stream of time and consciousness, and each had even died once. "Experienced" didn't cover it; the two had lived the kinds of lives of which the most insightful, creative, or insane of people could scarcely conceive. They had endured events and evils that had cracked the world to its core.

But neither had ever known anything like this.

One moment, Babi had been advancing on Presley and Max, the boys abandoned by Scarab and left to their fate. Then, swift as a lightning-strike, the glowing dome that had capped the mountain's plateau closed in, encompassing boys and baboon within its tight confines. Everything, from the air to the sun, seemed to stand momentarily still. Strangely enough, as the light coalesced it changed, shifting from white to a dark, brooding grey that washed out all other colors and hues. Within the bubble, Babi's screams ricocheted with increasing desperation once his last, perverse and desperate offer to Max and Presley was honorably ignored. But it was, as always, the boys that Norman and Virgil watched.

Max and Presley were in pain; that much was clearly evident by how they shook against the pressure of the power of two warring gods. That they did not respond to the baboon's threat of eternal suffering surprised neither Virgil nor Norman; they would not have expected any less of the boys. But it was the heart-wrenching glance they shared that stole the air from the guardians' lungs. As the grey energy closed in still further, growing denser and more ominous, Max and Presley shone with a light of their own, a light that was entirely mortal, human, and child-like with its purity, although neither boy appeared to notice it. This was not the power of the Mighty One and the spirit of Rapses. This was the inborn force of souls that were pure and untainted, set firmly on the side of good. Any human hero could have stood there, enduring pain and waiting for death and damnation, but of their worlds, only these two boys would have done so with such honor and strength.

"He is the Mighty One," Norman murmured, awestruck as he finally saw Max for who he was without the calling that had always defined him. And he was the boy Norman had always seen and revered, shining beneath the surface of destiny.

"Indeed." Virgil's own feathers were wet from tears left unchecked on his face. He had been wrong all along. It was not destiny that had made Max special. Max was special all on his own, and his destiny had chosen him because of it.

With a disturbingly jarring and all-too-audible snapping sound, the dense light slammed inward, crushing the three bodies inside. The dome contracted completely, nearly vanishing in the center of the plateau. Then, a darkness both black and red with eerie shadows of pale white seemed to lift from the shadows and race from the light's remains to the obelisk. Norman and Virgil turned just in time to see it impact on the face off the mountain, sinking into the rock as water does into a sponge. Below, the incarnate Ma'at was also slowly sinking away into the doorway she had created, pulling all powers and energies with her. For one moment, a vision of light trembled on the surface of the obelisk. Then the immortal forces vanished, and the world began to move again.

"Mighty One!" Norman roared, turning from the mountain back to the plateau. Side by side, Max and Presley were stretched out on the rock, their fiercely-joined hands now slack and limp in the dirt. The Viking's legs moved with a swiftness he had never known before as he appeared at the side of his friend. "No…"

Virgil, almost as fast as his large counterpart when his heart was racing, kneeled between the boys and placed a practiced hand on each throat. A few of the slowest seconds in history passed. The Lemurian bit back a cry as pain thundered through him. Even expecting it, even preparing for it, nothing could make Virgil's heart ready for the stark and unforgiving truth before him.

"They're gone."


	20. ...And Beyond

Warmth.

It spread out through limbs numb and dead, softly awakening sluggish memories. Fingers, toes, then arms and legs knew what they were, how they looked, what they were for. As it crept inward, gently prodding comfort to where there had been nothing, a body formed, a head. Warmth, like invisible sunlight, touched cheeks, eyes, insistent but tender, until a mind and soul finally registered existence.

Max's eyes flew open as he gasped. Beside him, Presley opened his own eyes with surprise.

"What happened?" the Cap-Bearer asked in a rushed voice.

"We're okay?" Presley questioned at the same moment.

The world around them slowly came into focus. The boys where lying down on something soft with an unearthly blue sky above them. Blades of impossibly comfortable grass pricked at them from below. As they both scrambled to rise, they recognized the realm of Ma'at, her ziggurat nowhere in sight.

"Did it work?" Max asked Presley confusedly. "I mean…we're here…"

"You have done well, my young ones." Ma'at, a child no more but once again the commanding and yet captivating feathered goddess, appeared beside them. "Babi is returned to his place in the heavens, such as it were, and the earth is safe."

"And…we're dead, aren't we?" Presley asked, feeling a lump catch in his throat at the thought.

"You are. No two mere boys could have possibly survived such a rite, and you were no longer gifted. Do you regret it?"

"Not really. It's just that…" Presley shrugged helplessly at Max, unable to verbalize his feelings.

"Being dead isn't so bad, I guess. But we didn't really get to say goodbye to a lot of people," the Cap-Bearer finished. "And it hurts to know we won't get that chance now."

"Indeed. You would not be human if you were not concerned for those who would mourn you. But perhaps I can offer you both a small consolation."

As the boys stared at her in confusion, the goddess lifted her full and graceful wings, extending them outward. For a moment, it seemed as if she had covered the sky and the land in their expanse, encompassing everything. A smell of lightning suddenly filled the air, and a jolt shot through both boys. As one, they faltered, their knees weakening in sudden shock, nearly fell over, then straightened and stood strong. Ma'at returned her wings to her side and waited.

Max looked down at his hands, and a broad smile broke out on his face, the first real smile in what seemed like forever as a familiar buzz hummed in his heart. Presley put a hand on his chest and took an experimental breath, tingling with the rightness of how his body fit again.

"Your gifts are restored, and you have my heartfelt thanks for their use," Ma'at said gently. "You are now once more as you had been, your destinies and souls as they were meant to be, and you have earned these honors tenfold. Though it comes perhaps too late, at least your spirits may now be whole."

This time, the boys needed neither prompting nor instinct to guide them as there was only one response possible for this boon. They each bowed low before the goddess in genuine gratitude. It could not undo what was done, could not send them home, but it helped them face their fates with peace, and it meant more than either could have said.

"You have paid the price of my summoning in full now," the goddess continued, her voice becoming more remote somehow. "You have passed my every test with courage and integrity and a high heart. You have dared the wrath of not one god but two, for the sake of a world that would neither know nor recognize your achievement, and you have endured pain and fear faced by very few of your race."

Something strange was happening. The sky and grass around Presley and Max seemed to be fading, although the goddess was still clear and sharp. She continued to address them, unmindful of the obvious changes to her realm.

"You sacrificed that which you cherished, not once, but several times, surrendering your self-determination to the will of another, your divine gifts to service, and your lives to the earth. You have done so imperfectly, as is the case with all who are mortal and thus possessed of doubt and fear, but you have also chosen in your own hearts that such doubt and fear will not rule you over your better inclinations."

Now a dull ache was beginning in each boy, starting somewhere in their upper chest and burning through their bodies. Even as it hurt, though, Max and Presley felt themselves lock tight, joints and bones complaining bitterly as they went inexplicably rigid. The boys fought against the unseen bonds that held them, Ma'at's voice echoing in their ears until they forgot to struggle under the rush of her words.

"As such, I consider your debts and your sacrifices to this cause complete and fulfilled. Though you will never be free of the obligations placed upon you by destiny and by choice, you are hereby released of my service and jurisdiction and I return you to the powers that command your lives. My claim upon you is surrendered."

Presley and Max felt the world falling away under their feet, and it seemed uncannily like the time the portal had nearly collapsed around them. A shadowy void appeared beneath them and they began to float inexorably downward. Try as they might, neither could gather enough force of will to do anything to stop themselves as strange lights burst before their eyes and they sank from the comfort of the goddess's lands and the eternal warmth of her eyes. Her final words echoed back to them like a voice from a dream.

"Be safe, my young chosen kings. I am well pleased with you. Go in blessing and grace to that which awaits you, and know forever that, with or without your gifts, you are true heroes in my sight."

 

-==OOO==-

 

Perhaps it was luck, but Rath preferred to think of it as keen instinct and the fine application of skill that alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone in the expansive workshop and library. Looking up from an interesting but somehow unfulfilling set of scrolls, the scholar found himself faced with the form of Ma'at. Rath quickly jumped from his seat, the parchments hastily dropped somewhere off the side; uncharacteristically, he did not bother to pick them up.

"Goddess," Rath bowed, a tiny hope flickering inside the excitement that interrupted countless hours of quiet. "How may I serve?"

"Rath, serpent of Ra and sworn guardian to the Prince Rapses," Ma'at intoned, her eyes bright. "I come before you to offer you one chance and one chance alone to leave your current chosen afterlife for another place."

"To leave?" Rath's incredulity could have knocked Armon flat. "How? Where?"

"Prince Rapses has completed his work in my service and I have released him to his own eternity. As guardian of his soul, I offer you the chance to join him."

The scholar's green eyes blinked sudden tears. Ma'at must mean that Presley had saved the world at the price of his life. His boy had done it. Pride welled up in his quiet heart, pride and love for a student and a boy more dear than he had any right to be.

"Where is he?" Rath wanted to know. Of course, the answer mattered very little; if it meant getting out of this prison of limitless but lonesome knowledge, he would take it. Besides, "where" was a relative concept in the afterlife. But cats are not the only curious ones, after all.

"Beyond this place," came the unhelpful answer.

"And will the others be there as well? Ja-Kal and Nefertina and Armon?"

"That is their choice alone, as this is yours. Choose now, guardian, or remain here forever."

Rath closed his eyes, feeling warmth spread through him. He had learned much in this solitude, but no lesson was as important as what his heart had known all along. When he looked up at the goddess, his answer was clear upon his face. There was but one place he belonged for eternity, one road to peace, and he would not find it here. As the sterile space around him evaporated into light, Rath could have sworn he felt more than saw an approving nod from Ma'at. But he didn't need her to tell him he had chosen correctly; he already knew.

 

-==OOO==-

 

"Nefertina, you…you can't want this!" Apep protested as the lioness stepped from the circle of his arms towards where the goddess had appeared. "You just got your freedom back from all that!"

"Yes, I did," she returned, a bit hotly. "And there's no saying I'd be giving it up if I accepted, is there?"

"But…"

"Listen," and the lioness tried to make her tone more gentle, "Pep, I did give you my word I would be with you beyond the Western Gate. And I have been. Perhaps I'll come back to your side again someday. But in the meantime, I want to see them, all of them. It isn't duty calling me back to be with Rapses now."

"But I thought you loved me." His face, that could look so strong, seemed strangely caved in, as though a weight pulled at his expression from behind his skin.

"It is my choice," Nefertina avoided the unspoken question. "No matter what my heart says about you, I won't let you make this choice for me. That's the real freedom I've been seeking, and you know it. I'm going to decide for myself, with nobody stopping me. For once."

"Wild, unpredictable Nefertina," Apep said after a moment of silence. He shook his head ruefully, albeit with sorrow. "I should have expected as much. I was too right that no man could hold you for long, that your spirit was too strong to be bound. Even by me." He shrugged, plainly trying to hide his hurt.

"I'm sorry, Pep." The lioness reached a soft hand to touch his cheek. The creature of the desert accepted her touch and leaned into it as a thirsting man would an oasis. "I may still come back eventually, you know."

"I do know that," he replied gently. "But come of your own will, not because you feel you must. My queen must be free of all fetters, even my own."

"Thank you for understanding how much Presley means to me," Nefertina whispered sadly.

"Make him earn it," Pep said, his voice almost back to its usual carelessness. "Or I shall find him and force him to see what you are worth."

Torn in two, and with tears of both pain and relief standing in her eyes, Nefertina pulled herself away from the one man to whom she had ever given her heart freely. But, as she met the gaze of Ma'at, she knew she belonged forever at the side of one to whom she had been bound long before. Because he was the one she would freely choose now, duty or no duty.

 

-==OOO==-

 

Armon considered the goddess's words carefully. Leave here, go be wherever Rapses was? And no knowing if the other guardians would join them or not? His eyes narrowed as he thought. Sure, going to be with the boy would alleviate the unending quiet of this place, and he would still probably be able to eat and train. But what if he couldn't?

"Will there be food?" he asked abruptly. Ma'at, Armon was not surprised to see, did not dignify his question with an answer, even though he wished she would.

"Um…is it better than this?" the ram tried. He just did not want to make this decision without at least a little more information. Otherwise, it felt like walking into an ambush!

"Your prince will be there. The rest is not for me to say," the goddess replied.

"Hmm."

Armon looked around the room, at the table littered with food and the training facility recently restocked with new weapons and weights after he had broken the others with much use. The ram suddenly straightened and grabbed a heaping basket of sweets from the table, then tucked his favorite weight under his arm. He strode back to where the goddess stood waiting.

"Okay, let's go."

As Armon heard what he swore was a chuckle swirling around him, he smiled. Even if his food ran out and the weight became unbalanced and worn from too much exercise, he would have them for a while and he could make them last. Being with his boy again would make up for the rest of it. He was sure of it.

 

-==OOO==-

 

Ja-Kal stood, hand protectively holding his wife's, as he listened to what Ma'at had to say. Seeing the goddess, especially when he had felt he was at last beyond all the magic and strangeness of his lifetime on earth, had been more than a surprise. For the sight of the goddess who had judged him reminded him with sudden clarity of the boy he had left behind. The prince he had loved as a son, even without ever admitting it. Glancing out the open door to where the form of his true son still waited by the banks of the river, the falcon felt something tug from within.

"Ja-Kal…" began Tia, when Ma'at had finished her offer.

"Don't worry, my love. I won't leave you this time." But even as the words escaped him, Ja-Kal felt sudden denial grow within.

"But the boy?" Tia asked gently. "Won't he need you?"

"I…don't know," he admitted. Turning to the divine form in the middle of the room, Ja-Kal asked, "Will he?"

"It is likely. But the choice is your own."

"How many times are you going to force me to choose between my family and my duty?" the falcon roared in sudden fury and shame. "How can you keep making me put one above the other? It's not right!"

"Husband," Tia said, but he ignored her.

"I left my family to save the prince, and failed. And I was punished. Now, at last, I have fulfilled my duty, have I not? Am I not now finally able to return to those who have waited for me for thousands of years?" Ja-Kal's voice grated with anger.

"You have been my greatest challenge, falcon of the pharaoh," came Ma'at's unexpected answer. Surprised, Ja-Kal fell silent as she continued, "I have tried again and again to show you that it is you, not I, that demands a choice of your heart. I do not wish for you to elect to love one son over another. My aim is, and has always been, to show you the love you already hold for one very special boy, such that you might find peace in that love."

A deep silence fell.

"Ja-Kal," Tia said finally, "the goddess is right, you know. You loved Prince Rapses all those years ago, but could never admit it. Perhaps if you did, you would no longer feel so torn in caring for him in our stead."

"But I do not want to care for him in place of you and Padjet! I…want to return to the life I lost with you, my love," was the falcon's quiet answer.

"And you will," Tia urged. Taken with brazen courage, she turned to Ma'at. "My divine lady, will you permit my husband to return to us in time? Perhaps when the boy no longer needs him? Or perhaps they might come to this place together such that neither will be alone? It seems that perhaps my husband need not choose between us, but rather share his heart and his spirit."

"You are wise, my love," Ja-Kal said, awe and affection in his voice.

"Indeed," Ma'at replied, warmth evident in her words. "Although I cannot tell you much of what will be, I can give you this comfort: should Ja-Kal accept my offer and come with me now, he will return to you by and by. You will not be barred from each other for eternity; separation may be inevitable for a time, but not forever."

"And Rapses," Ja-Kal put in hesitantly. "What will happen to him if I do not accept?"

"I cannot say precisely, but I will tell you this much: he will be sorely pained to be without you."

"Ja-Kal," Tia met her husband's eyes. "It seems to me that you have returned to me only to leave your time with the prince undone. It does you no good to be reunited with Padjet and I only to have torn yourself from another who needs you. And I believe that you may still need him. I know your heart, Ja-Kal, and it cannot have changed so much since I last saw you. I know that you would still feel incomplete if you stayed with me now."

"But Tia, we have waited so long…"

"I know. But I will be here forever, my love. Forever. Rapses will not need you that long, not with you to guide him beyond such need. Go to him, Ja-Kal. Allow yourself to be the father to him that I see so plainly in your eyes that you wish to be. And when the time is right, return to us and be my husband and Padjet's father once more."

Ja-Kal looked once again to where the shape of his son, blood of his blood, remained outside, still unknown, still an enigma to him.

"I have still never known my son besides those few months when he was a baby," he said softly, and there was a lump in his throat.

"But you will have eternity to know him as a man," Tia embraced her husband gently. "Perhaps it is better this way. When you return to us, you will return to stay."

"Tia, my love, you astound me. Here you have lived and died without me, spent untold eons beyond the Western Gate waiting for me, and yet at the first need of another you are able to send me away again. How can you be so strong?" the falcon marveled.

"I learned it from you, Ja-Kal. You have always taken such good care of everyone around you. Let me please give you this time to take care of one who needs you, and take care of something within yourself as well. And then, perhaps, as the goddess says, you will find true peace. When you have found it, return. And I shall still be waiting."

Ja-Kal embraced her fiercely, holding her with all the love and desperation of the years he had been apart from her. Even as he lost himself momentarily in her arms, even as he felt the world around him still and vanish, somewhere else he could almost sense the spirit of a boy who needed him. A boy he did love. A boy he was no longer afraid to love. Tia was right. He would have no peace until he had made right what had been lost between himself and Presley. Then, having finally been the man and guardian his heart had demanded for so long, then and only then could he return as the husband and father his family deserved.

As Ja-Kal kissed his wife goodbye and stepped into the light of Ma'at, he felt strangely calm. Many men had more than one son, after all, and bore a responsibility to each independently. The falcon knew then, with an acceptance that surprised him even as it comforted him, that he was a man with two sons, one of whom still needed his guidance and care. And for as long as the boy needed a father, Ja-Kal would be at his side.

 

-==OOO==-

 

Jarring, crushing pain.

His lungs were exploding, his chest broken and cutting inwards.

His heart beat weirdly sideways, sending jolts of fire through him.

Then he gasped, coughing until he felt he could cough no more. Max found himself on his side, a warm hand holding his shoulder and steadying him as he regained his breath. Opening burning eyes filled with tears from choking, he found himself on the plateau of the mountain once more, a very, very concerned Norman looking gravely down at him.

"B…big guy?" Max stuttered weakly.

"You're all right!" Norman rejoiced. Color raced up his face and Max realized how starkly white his Viking friend's complexion had truly been. Truth be told, he didn't feel all right, but it obviously made Norman happy to think that, so Max let it slide.

"What…happened?" he coughed, still feeling like his lungs weren't quite working right.

"You died," the Guardian said softly, anguish sounding in his voice. "You died saving the world, Mighty One."

"Mighty One?"

"Aren't you the Mighty One again?" Norman asked pointedly.

"Yeah, but, how do you know?"

"I know," he said sagely.

"Oh. Presley!" Max suddenly realized, the solid understanding of his Guardian sent rushing from the front of his mind. As he found sitting to be a little harder than expected, it took Norman's help to get the Cap-Bearer upright. Twisting to the other side, he could see his friend in a similar state. Presley leaned heavily against Virgil, his face haggard, though relieved.

"So, how come we're alive again?" Presley wanted to know. The boy-prince swallowed with difficulty, wiping a trembling hand across his eyes. "I mean, Ma'at told us we were dead and all. Usually that's kinda permanent."

"Around the likes of you two? Not so much," Norman teased gently. Then, growing serious again, "Virgil and I had feared something like this might happen one day. Therefore, from the day modern medicine introduced the idea, he and I have been practicing CPR. Just in case."

"CPR? All the magic and voodoo we've been through this week and you save us with CPR?" Somehow, it seemed extremely funny. Max started to giggle, then started to laugh in full, rocking until exhaustion and bruised ribs reminded him of his recent ordeal and it took Norman to hold him up. All things considered, though, Max was grateful that he still had ribs at all, given his Guardian's legendary strength.

"It seems that the Mighty One is returned to us," Virgil said, attempting to maintain some semblance of outward dignity. Internally, of course, he mainly wanted to embrace his boy and know down to his core that Max was all right, but that would not be quite fitting their relationship and relative status. He settled for crossing the short distance between them with a grip of the shoulder and a teasing pat on the head. "As are you, Prince Rapses."

"Yeah, I guess," Presley said as he lurched to a sitting position on his own. With the feeling of being alive now no longer so astonishing, the terrible realization that he was still without his friends crushed any elation of having survived.

"You know," came a haughty, familiar voice, evocative of scholarly pursuits and dry wit, "for one who was quite literally brought back from the dead, you certainly put us all to shame."

"Yeah! How come you get to keep your skin and stuff?" another familiar voice asked, laughingly irreverent and untamed.

Presley scrambled to his unsteady feet and whirled in the direction of the voices. There, at the foot of the obelisk that was now, strangely, crumbling away into ordinary rock, stood his four guardians.

"You're alive!" he shouted. He ran to them on bumbling feet, crashing right into the mess of the four mummies he had known and loved and lost.

"Not really," Armon grinned. "But we are returned to you, oh prince."

Ja-Kal, having opened his arms in joyful welcome, caught Presley in a true hug, pressing the boy to his heart and taking the weight off his still-unsteady legs. As the others gathered to hold their prince, Ja-Kal felt tears tracking helplessly down his face. Tia and Ma'at had been right. He had a son now, a son that he loved as if he had been of his own blood. He would give this boy a father, a life together, and return one day to his own family at peace at last. Perhaps he was never meant to watch Padjet grow from child to man; Ja-Kal would not miss this chance with Presley for anything.

"I missed you guys so much," Presley said between painful gasps. For the first time, he became extremely aware of his own maltreated ribs. But no pain could live in him for long with his friends at his side again. He might get annoyed at their protectiveness, might grow tired of the constant demands and dangers of his life. But he would take all the frustration and fear and heartache of this life gratefully if it kept Armon, Rath, Nefertina, and Ja-Kal at his side always.

Slowly, the rush of joy and reunion faded, and Presley and his mummies could see outside themselves, greeting Max and his own guardians warmly. That is, except for Armon, who was inexplicably seeking some food that he believed ought to have come "back" with him.

"So, you saved the world, huh?" Nefertina asked, grinning.

"Yup. Couldn't have done it without everybody, though. Even Scarab," Presley replied.

"Whatever happened to Scarab?" Virgil suddenly wondered.

Norman pointed upwards. As everyone turned to look, a flash of gold moved off of the peak of the mountain and began to fly rapidly northwards, cursing the lot of them at the top of his lungs as he went. Apparently there would be a fight for another day. For now, it was business as usual.

"So, what was it like? You know, the afterlife?" Max wanted to know, his usual cheekiness restored in full. "We didn't really see any of it."

"Well, it…" Ja-Kal began hesitantly.

"Stank." Armon's voice was absolutely, vehemently certain, and he scowled as he said it.

"It…stank?" Virgil asked incredulously.

"Yes. It stank," Armon replied firmly, unfazed by the gaping expressions around him.

To everyone's surprise, Rath began to laugh. Uproariously and heartily. He laughed so hard tears almost broke from his eyes. While the others shared wondering glances, the snake-avatar tried to control himself.

"Armon," he gasped. "I never thought I'd see the day I'd say this, but…well, you've never been more right. It stank, as you say." Then he laughed again, this time with a touch of bitterness and relief mixed in somewhere.

"Was it really that bad, Ja-Kal?" Presley asked, turning toward his mentor hesitantly, while Norman pounded the mummified scholar on the back as he began to choke from his uncontrolled outburst.

"For me? No. Not really." He put an arm around his boy in a gesture that felt entirely natural now that he had realized a few things. "But Rath and Armon both knew something I didn't. Something that would have held them back more than me. So I imagine that theirs was a different experience from my own."

"What did they know?"

"How much they cared about you," was the falcon's honest answer.

"What about you, Nefertina?" Max questioned politely, letting the warmth in the air settle around Ja-Kal and Presley.

"Mine…well, it didn't start out too bad, but I think it would eventually have stopped being fun. Ja-Kal's right. There are some things," and her eyes took in her prince, her new friends, and her old ones, tried and true, "that no amount of paradise can ever replace."


	21. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Looks like we made it! As the credits roll, let me shout out to citizenjess of fanfic.net, my ever-present ally and friend on this adventure. And you, the incredible, awesome people still reading, still enjoying the story. This one's for you.
> 
> The quote at the end is from Richard Bach, from his book Jonathan Livingston Seagull which, if you haven't read it, you absolutely should. Especially if you're a Max fan. Just sayin'.
> 
> Don't own them and never will. But it doesn't matter – they're part of my heart and my creativity, and just like I can't profit from them, you can't take that away!
> 
> Enjoy!

"Well…uh, I guess this is it," Max said awkwardly, holding out a hand.

"Yeah," Presley mumbled. He took the offered hand, but abruptly pulled the Mighty One into a hug instead. There was so much to say, but no words to say it. And yet somehow both boys knew what neither could verbalize. Watching, always nearby, their guardians hid smiles.

The early morning sunlight illuminated the San Francisco bay's reconstruction, the once golden bridge now a sad pile of stone and steel. Returning to the city the night before had been rather a rude shock for Presley and the mummies; after all, it was rare for their adventures to leave visible scars on the world. The boys had discussed it with their mentors, but it was Max that comforted the reincarnated prince.

"Think of it this way, Pres: only real heroes have their cities torn apart by the bad guys. You just jumped up into the major league with the rest of us. Besides, it'll do people good to realize there's more in the world than they want to believe. And they can't even pin it on you, so don't feel guilty about it. The bridge'll get rebuilt, and it'll be as good as new. Sometimes we have to start over to know what we did right the first time."

But now that the chaos was over, now that Babi was banished and order and balance had been restored to Presley's world, it was time for Max and Virgil and Norman to return to their own dimension. Among other considerations, Skullmaster's defeat was sure to enrage the bony baddie, and the Mighty One needed to be present to thwart his revenge. Or, that's what Virgil said, anyway.

"I wanted to thank you both," Ja-Kal said, turning to the two guardians from another world while his boy said goodbye. "You've…you've shown us so much about ourselves and our prince, and we can never repay you."

"You honor us," Virgil smiled sincerely, "but honestly, I think they learned as much from each other as they ever have from us. So we have you to thank for that as well."

"Don't be a stranger," Nefertina put in shyly.

"Yeah. I need a challenge every now and again," Armon rumbled. Norman nodded once in return.

"It has been the utmost pleasure to work with you, Virgil," Rath said, clapping the Lemurian on the shoulder lightly. "I shall miss your intellect as well as your company."

"Yes, well…" the fowl stuttered. "I enjoyed our time as well. But destiny calls, and we cannot hold it at bay any longer." In truth, Virgil was uncomfortable with saying farewell to the mummies. They had seen much together, survived much, and faced their worst demons together. Though he could not bring himself to admit it, the Lemurian felt that the mummies and their ward would live within his heart even across space and time. But it was not in him to express it, not yet, even after all he had learned.

"Mighty One," Norman called gently. The Viking was hesitant to leave as well, but less for himself than for his boy. Max was taking the parting harder than anyone but Presley. Still, the time to leave had come, and they could all feel it.

"Look, take care of yourself and the guys, okay?" Max said, stepping back from his friend. "And take care of that soul of yours, too."

"I will, I promise. Take care of your Cap, too. And your guardians."

"And hey! Maybe someday the 'great cosmic forces' or whatever will throw you our way. Who knows? These things do tend to be sort of circular," the Mighty One said, smiling a little. It had been a rare comfort to be in the presence of someone who could comprehend the pain of his duty, the weight it put on him, but Presley had also reminded Max precisely why he accepted the mantle of the Mighty One time and again. As he prepared to head back to his own dimension, he did so with a steady soul, his purpose clear and his resolve strong. Although he would miss this boy who understood his life as no one ever had, he was ready to go home.

Presley rallied himself and managed a smile in return. His time with the Mighty One had been the best in his life, the best and the worst, and it was in no small part because the boy before him had helped him so much. Even against his best intentions, the boy-prince had long suffered from self-centeredness and irresponsibility; now, thanks to Max, he had come to terms with the reality of himself, and within that truth he had found a new way of thinking and a new challenge to overcome. If Presley was ever fortunate enough to be thrown into Max's world someday, he intended to meet him, not three steps behind the Mighty One, but as a true hero. An equal.

"I'd like that," the prince nodded.

"Well, then, I guess it's time. See you around, everybody," Max announced, his brightness only a little forced. Virgil and Norman moved to join their boy, and Presley backed up slowly until Ja-Kal had put a hand on his proud shoulder. Regarding each other, the Mighty One and Prince Rapses both smiled. They were the same, and in that, they were together.

At Max's silent command, the Cosmic Cap came joyously to life, opening a portal that was uncommonly brilliant. With a final wave, the Mighty One led his friends through the doorway, a bounce in his step even as he resisted the urge to look back. The magic swirled and hummed in the air, enveloping the three heroes in its light. Then, though the sound and feel of it hovered still in the clearing, the portal itself and those it had carried were gone.

"I'm…going to miss him," Presley admitted shakily after a few seconds. "Do you think we'll ever see them again?"

"Well," Rath began, "as one of your wise writers has said, 'If our friendship depends on things like space and time, then when we finally overcome space and time, we've destroyed our own brotherhood! But overcome space, and all we have left is Here. Overcome time, and all we have left is Now. And in the middle of Here and Now, don't you think that we might see each other once or twice?'"

"What does that mean?" Nefertina asked.

"I think it means," and Ja-Kal smiled widely, "that I would be very surprised if we did not find ourselves fighting side by side once more."

"I hope so." And with that, Presley led his protectors and friends down the hill and into the morning.

 

-==OOO==-

 

As the trio exited the portal, Max managing to end on his rear instead of his feet, a small sorrow settled over him, the same sensation that often followed him to school after a long vacation. Their world was, thankfully, just as they had left it, but it was still filled with danger and uncertainty and a perilous future. There was no "happily ever after" here – there was work to be done and heartache to deal with and major evil to defeat. But for today, it could probably wait.

"Hey Virg?" the Mighty One asked as he pulled himself upright. He didn't want to dwell on what he had left behind, on what he had been so near to losing. Max wouldn't forget, but for the moment, he didn't want to remember either.

"Yes, Mighty One?"

"I just have one question for you." Only Norman noticed the glint in his boy's eyes as Max shook himself back to his usual cheerfulness.

"Yes?"

"Um…how exactly did you do CPR with a beak?" At Virgil's astonished look, Max burst into relieved giggles.

"I…uh…it's rather complicated, you know!" the Lemurian said defensively, glaring at the boy who was so much trouble, and so much more.

And as Virgil swatted at Max's shoulders defiantly and Norman let out his own rumbling laughter, Max grinned. Tomorrow would be another adventure.

-==OOO==-

 

And from a place deep within the earth upon which the Mighty One stood, a voice saw and growled.

"You have no idea what awaits you, Cap Bearer. You and all those meddlesome allies. Enjoy your victory for now. And prepare yourself, for soon I will remove that smile from your face and revel in your screaming…"


End file.
